Playing Red
by Nemu-saa
Summary: An intimidating tennis team is determined to bring Seigaku's advancement toward the nationals to a violent halt. The more they cross the line, the more Fuji ceases to care about drawing one.
1. The Color Blue

**Summary:** An intimidating tennis team is determined to bring Seigaku's advancement toward the nationals to a violent halt. The more they cross the line, the more Fuji ceases to care about drawing one.

**Rated:** K+ (PG) for mild violence and language

**Narrative Note:** I habitually short-cut to _thoughts_ and _"memories" _using italics and quotes. I'm sorry! Also, I hope you'll find my translated-subtitles method of writing dialog to be charming rather than annoying. ^_^;

**Timeline Note:** In the Manga, Seigaku plays the Regional Quarter Finals match against Midoriyama. In the Anime, it was Jousei Shonan. In the Musicals, the match was cut altogether. Hopefully this means that neither Konomi-sensei, Ueshima-san, nor Viz Media will mind my taking the liberty of replacing it with my own match. ;)

**Ignorance Note: **I tried to follow tennis rules and patterns of match progression; really, I did! But some aspects occasionally confuse me, so if there are any inconsistencies, I apologize to you tennis-players out there. Gomenasai!

**Disclaimer: **"Prince of Tennis" is an original work of Konomi Takashi.I claim no rights or ownership of the "Prince of Tennis" series or characters. This story is fan-made for the purpose of entertainment only.

* * *

**Playing Red **_by Nemu_

* * *

_…moreover, I think he's improving a lot. Even with Ryuzaki-sensei out of town, everyone has really been putting their all into it lately. After the Hyoutei match was so close, I think a few of us are a little nervous about the Quarter Finals. Even Inui doesn't know much about the next two schools we're playing. One is Rokkaku Chuu. Fuji is childhood friends with the vice captain and says that they're a little unorthodox in their play style. I didn't really understand but I guess we'll find out soon._

_ But before that, we play Hachiyama Chuu. It was a last-minute decision by the Kanto Junior Tennis Board. Apparently two of the regulars were suspended this spring, but they've managed to find replacements in time to reenter the competition. Because of that, Inui hasn't gathered much data on them yet._

_ Maybe that's why some people are nervous. Of course, not me! Eiji is, maybe. I'm fine; feeling confident and eager about the match! But Eiji is a little uncertain, and we've been practicing a lot so he can relax. But I'm fine. _

_Well, I'd better go work on today's menu. We'll keep giving it our best, so don't worry! I'll call you Friday, after the match. _

_- Oishi._

The padded underside of the door brushed against the floor and a warm breeze from outside caught the shorter strands of Tezuka's hair. He looked up.

"Kunimitsu-kun?" Doctor Karen smiled expectantly over her clipboard. "Are you ready?"

"Oh… Yes." He moved to take up his racket, only to realize he'd never fully put it down; it leaned against the edge of the locker-room bench, and his fingers were still curled around the grip. "Thank you. I'll be right out."

"No rush." She smiled again before stepping back and letting the door sweep shut after her.

Tezuka glanced down at his phone screen one more time. But it wouldn't do any good to dwell on the email just now. Standing, he closed the phone and pocketed it. Still…

_Hachiyama Chuu._

He knew the name well. He knew also the reputation belonging to it. He crossed to the door, pulled it open, and felt the sunlight and the warm breeze greet him again. He closed his eyes.

"Everyone," he murmured. "Be careful."

* * *

_"BU-URNING!"_

From Echizen's spot halfway up the bleachers, the sound of racket on ball sounded like a sledgehammer on cement. In a moment of curiosity, he nearly tipped the brim of his hat up to look down at the court. But on further consideration, he decided he was enjoying his cat-nap too much.

"Uwah! That was close!" Momoshiro caught his balance precariously after leaping out of the tennis ball's path. He grinned. "That return's sure getting fast, Taka-san!"

"Better believe it, kid! You won't get one point off of me! GREAT-O!" There was another loud whack and Momo laughed, dashing back to the center line.

Throwing his right side into the swing, Momo sent the yellow streak back over the net. Suddenly, the air around Taka seemed to compress and then release. Even from the stands, Echizen could feel it raise the hair on the back of his neck. He sat up, eyes locked on Taka's stance. The air undulated again, heavier this time.

The ball seemed to waver and disappear into the vaporous air around Taka's racket. Then abruptly, the muscles in his shoulder rolled and his elbow snapped straight.

Barely audible over the boom of impact, Taka shouted, "Hadoukyuu!"

There was another dull bang and Momo leapt aside again, staring wide-eyed at the ground. The ball was long-gone from the court, leaving only a black scorch on cement.

Momo gave an impressed, slightly nervous laugh. "Scary."

"YEA-AH! VICTORY!" Taka whirled his racket arm round and round in a side-circle. "INCREDIBLE!"

"Eh… Taka-san…" Momo sighed. He ran back to the net, clearing it in one jump. He quickly caught the edge of Taka's racket on the upswing and jerked it away. "Whoops! There we go."

"BURNI ─" Taka's whirling arm slowed to a halt and he dropped his hand to his side. "Ah… Great game, Momo. Thanks a lot for practicing with me."

Momo passed Taka's racket to his other hand, pairing it with his own. With his free hand, he patted Taka on the shoulder. "Anytime. Thought you were gonna kill me with that Hadoukyuu, though."

"Eh-heh." Taka rubbed the back of his neck ruefully. "Sorry about that. I'm trying to get it perfect before the match day-after-tomorrow."

"Yeah, I think it's working."

"Momo-chan-senpai!" The shout came from three voices at once and Momo looked over his shoulder. Three sets of sneakers scraped against the court in an eager dash on short legs. Horio reached them first, waving a tennis ball in the air.

"I noticed you were out of balls, so I brought you one for the next set!"

"So did I!" Katsuo added, coming to stop next to Horio. "And I think it was Kachirou who noticed, Horio-kun."

"Thanks, you three." Taka smiled at Kachirou as he finally caught up. "But I think that's it for me today."

"I'll put yours in your bag, Taka-san." Momo propped the two rackets on his shoulder and walked back toward the bench.

"Oh…" Kachirou's shoulders sank in disappointment. He slid one foot back, tapping the heel of his left shoe with the toe of his right. "Um, Kawamura-senpai… I was wondering…"

He trailed off uncertainly, taking no notice of Horio's prompting elbow bonking his.

"We were just curious," Katsuo continued instead. "…why do you get so angry when you play?"

"'Cause when you get that way, it's like it helps you win," Horio added.

"Angry?" Taka tilted his head to one side. "I don't think I've ever been angry while playing tennis."

"But…" Kachirou spoke up at last. "Not even when you're yelling and hitting the Hadoukyuu so hard like that?"

"No, not at all. Eh, people do say I get pretty energetic sometimes, though." Taka's mouth quirked in a half-smile. "But not because of anger. That'd be no good. Playing angry… even if you win, there's no real victory. You might win the game, but you'll lose everything else. No matter how much I want to win, I hope I never play angry."

"O-oh…" The trio still looked confused, but they nodded, heads bobbing slightly off-sync from one another.

"Taka-san, I can't find your bag!" Momo stood outside the fence, still holding the two rackets.

"Oh, sorry! I'll get it!" Taka ran back toward the benches, calling over his shoulder to the three first-years, "Thanks for all your hard work today!"

They answered something in unison, too loudly to be understood.

The sun was beating down hard on Echizen's hat and he pulled the brim down further over his eyes. He sat a moment longer, watching Momo and Taka gather up their bags. Slowly, he stood up and slung his own bag over one shoulder.

Now he was torn. The heat was making him thirsty, but the beverage machines were in the opposite direction from the warm-up court. He stuffed his fists into his pockets, then pulled them out; a mirror of his indecision.

He could feel the urge itching away in his left hand. How did the Hadoukyuu work? After watching both Taka and Kabaji use it so many times during the last match, he at least knew the stance and the action. But he was still missing something.

The urge won and he headed for the court.

* * *

There was a wash of orange color over the school by the time Fuji reached the entrance gate. Waving goodbye to the two other seniors on the yearbook committee, he readjusted his tennis bag strap and started walking homewards.

The last of the day's heat had rolled itself into a comfortable evening breeze that blew along the road at about waist level. Fuji unzipped his Regulars jacket so the corners could flap around in the wind. It made a sound like pages turning in a large book. It was a very nice sound.

At last, the river came into sight on his left. Fuji paused, staring out at the streaming fabric of water and the reflected orange light. He was delighted to find his camera still hanging around his neck. Through the frame, he watched the river a moment longer, then pressed the silver button and the shutter snapped. Another truly lovely sound.

There were a few seconds where the wind died away and Fuji caught the sound of two familiar voices ahead of him on the road. He turned the camera forward and saw the backs of Taka's and Momoshiro's heads through the lens. Smiling, he snapped the shutter again and then broke into a run to catch up.

"Taka-san, Momo!"

"Huh? Oh!" The two came to a stop and Momo turned a grin on him. "Fuji-senpai. We thought you'd already gone home."

"I had meeting with the yearbook committee today."

"That's right! I forgot," Taka said as the three began walking again.

"What about you two?" Fuji asked. "Practice was over hours ago."

"We stayed late. Momo was helping me practice the Hadoukyuu some more."

"Speaking of Momo," Momo broke in. "This is me." They stopped again as he gestured to a bike rack on their right. He crossed to a blue bicycle at the end and set about unlocking it. "In the end, though, I think Echizen stuck around later than all of us."

Taka blinked. "Still practicing?"

Momo shrugged and nodded. "Maybe he's nervous about beating Hachiyama. I don't know, but the name _does_ sound a little familiar. They might be a pretty tough team." He lifted the bike free and deftly mounted it. "But we'll definitely win. Can't go losing a match while the captain's away, right? How bad would _that_ look."

Taka nodded once. "Right."

"Alright, see you both tomorrow!" Momo pushed a shoe against the pavement and sped off down the hill, ringing his bell for no reason.

Wordlessly, Taka and Fuji began walking the now empty road again. For a minute, there was only the sound of the low breeze and the river next to them.

Then Taka chuckled nervously. "So… are _you_ nervous about the match?"

Fuji passed him an inquisitive smile. "Not really. Should I be?"

"No… I am a little bit, I think. We don't really know anything about this team, except that some of their regulars were suspended. I wonder what kind of play style they'll have, that's all."

"Hence the extra practice?"

"Yeah…" Taka rolled his hand around on his wrist thoughtfully. "I'm trying to make it more powerful, but if Oishi puts me in, I wish I could have something new to bring."

"If it helps, I don't have anything new, either."

Taka grinned. "But no one's ever beat your triple counter. Besides, you're good at imitating other techniques, too."

Fuji rubbed the corner of his jersey over the camera lens before aiming up at the wisteria branches above them. "Thank you for saying so. Although, even imitation is a technique I borrow from one of my teammates."

The camera made its lovely snap-clicking noise and Taka nodded knowingly. "Echizen, right?"

"Mm. That's the one." He took a second shot, just to be on the safe side. "I think it's better to have techniques of your own making and to improve them in your own way. That's why your Hadoukyuu is exactly what Seigaku needs from you, Taka-san."

Taka looked out at the river, wearing an appreciative smile. "… I'll keep working on it, then. Thanks, Fuji. If I could help us get one match closer to the nationals, it's worth it."

Fuji glanced sideways, and then down. He noticed Taka's hand shaking. Slowly, it tightened toward a fist.

For a moment, Fuji was filled with a strange, quiet feeling with which he'd become quite familiar. He'd periodically met with this feeling ever since joining the Seigaku Regulars. Once the prefecturals had begun, he seemed to encounter it daily. The most recent occasion had remained constantly on his mind since the Hyoutei Match.

_"Tezuka… if you keep playing… it'll be dangerous."_

_"Tezuka-buchou, please stop! Your arm… You won't be able to play tennis anymore!" _

_"… Just one more point… I won't lose." _

Fuji didn't know much about this feeling, except that it was blue in color, it was mysteriously exciting, and it always left him with a kind of gentle melancholy. When he was near his teammates, the blueness of it radiated from them like pure heat. But that was the only way he ever felt it for himself.

Slowly, he looked away, lifting the camera again to take a picture of his own shoes.

"Hey!" Taka spoke up suddenly. "I just realized, you and I haven't played doubles ever since losing our game against Yamabuki."

Fuji snapped a picture of their two shadows on the path ahead and nodded. "Yes, that was very frustrating, wasn't it?"

"We should play doubles again soon. Eiji said Oishi's been really tense about the match; we could play a practice game with them and help him unwind. Just for fun, ya' know?"

Fuji let the camera hang down around his neck at last and smiled brightly. "Mm. I'd like to."

"Great!"

Facing forward again, they both readjusted their tennis bags, making the rackets inside rattle against each other. It was very pleasant sound, indeed.

* * *

_TBC..._

Glossary:

_buchou_ - captain

_hadoukyuu_ - Taka's technique, lit; "wave shot"


	2. Hachiyama Chuu

Chapter 2

* * *

No sooner had Fuji stepped into his house-shoes and passed the kitchen doorway, than he was greeted by a warm voice and two blue eyes, half-closed in a delighted smile. "Shusuke! Welcome home!"

"Nee-san," Fuji smiled back. "I'm home. Sorry I'm so late."

"No problem. Mom had a meeting at the bank today, so I'm making Yakisomen for dinner. Oh!" Yumiko gave a conspiratorial nod toward the living-room behind him. "And guess who else turned up this evening."

Fuji turned around, lighting up with an eager smile. "Yuuta!"

Yuuta looked over his shoulder, a mouthful of noodles dangling down past his chin. He scowled and muttered something back. Through the many noodles, it bore a passing similarity to "what are _you_ doing here?" but Fuji decided it was "welcome back".

He walked to the other side of the table, setting his bag on the floor, and sat down cater-cornered to Yuuta. The latter instinctively scooted his plate of somen closer to himself.

"I didn't know you were coming home today," Fuji remarked lightly. "Is everything alright at school?"

Yuuta shrugged, swallowing at last. "School's fine, but the tennis club isn't meeting again until next week, so I was bored."

Fuji blinked twice. "No tennis club? I hope nothing unfortunate has befallen any of the other regulars…"

"Um…" Yuuta raised an eyebrow uncertainly at his brother. Then he shook his head, gathering up another collection of noodles. "Not really. Akazawa-buchou had to go to Saitama for his grandfather's funeral and since Kaneda and Atsushi-senpai are both home with colds, Mizuki-san said we'd just wait until next week."

"I see." Fuji reached across the table, walking two fingers toward the edge of the plate. Yuuta snatched it back, shoveling in his carefully collected mouthful. "Perhaps you and I should have a practice match tomorrow after school."

"Noh ca' do," Yuuta replied, consonants once again mangled by somen. "Goin wuf Ya'agisawa tah wisit As'shi-se'pai."

"That's very thoughtful of you."

Yuuta's ears turned pink and he swallowed with some effort. "Not really, he's just stuck at home and we're all bored, so… Wait," he looked up. "_You_ can't anyway; Seigaku has practice after school on Thursdays, right?"

"Mm. Usually, but Oishi has canceled practice so everyone can relax before the match on Friday." Gazing innocently out the living room window, Fuji made another grab for the plate, forcing Yuuta to lift it off the table and hold it out of reach.

"What match? You guys aren't playing Saeki-san's school 'til the end of the month."

"No, it's a last-minute-entry team. Hachiyama Chuu."

A breeze blew through the window and Fuji closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of his bangs lifting up off his forehead. It took a moment to realize Yuuta was staring at him.

He asked, "What's the matter?"

Yuuta's mouth was partway open. "Hachiyama… Chuu. You guys are playing them?"

"Yes?" Fuji sat up a little straighter, tilting his head to the side. "Do you know something about them?"

"Uh…" Yuuta set his plate back down, staring hard at its contents. "No… I mean, we were supposed to play them this spring, but the game was canceled."

"That's unfortunate. I had heard that two of their regulars were suspended."

"Yeah…"

Fuji watched his little brother's face as Yuuta picked at the plate absently with his chopsticks. "Did something happen?"

"I don't know. I never met them, but I saw two of them come by St. Rudolph's a few days before the match; the captain and one of the other regulars. They went into the club room during practice and talked to Akazawa-buchou and Mizuki-san for a little while. When they left, one of them was laughing. For the rest of practice, Akazawa-buchou was really tense. I don't know what they said but, a few days later, when we heard the match was cancelled, Akazawa-buchou kinda'… sighed. Even Mizuki-san looked relieved."

"All the same, those two weren't suspended just for that, were they?"

Yuuta shook his head. "No, they weren't the ones who got suspended. I guess two of their second-year regulars got booted for causing trouble at a local hospital, but…"

"But?"

He picked at the noodles a little longer, then set down the chopsticks and looked up seriously. "Mizuki-san says the second-years took the fall for two other regulars; the captain and another one. He says the nurse who called security wasn't sure about their appearances, so the captain picked his two weakest players said it was them, instead."

"That's terrible."

They both stared down at the table between them in silence. Neither of them noticed that Yumiko had entered the room until she set a plate of Yakisomen down in front of Fuji.

Fuji smiled up at her. The brothers said "Thank you" simultaneously, Yuuta's tone laced with sarcasm. He picked up his own chopsticks again.

"You two aren't talking about the trouble at Chuuou General, are you?"

Yuuta looked up. "Nee-chan, you heard about it?"

"Only a little. I volunteer there sometimes and one of the nurses told me about the stir. Apparently those two boys were harassing one of the patients; a middle school student with a sports injury."

Fuji and Yuuta exchanged looks.

"Sports injury," Fuji repeated softly.

Yuuta shifted a little on his cushion. "Yanagisawa told me that three of the regulars on the opposing team were hurt after playing Hachiyama. I don't know, maybe it was bad enough to…" he glanced between his siblings and shook his head quickly. "Well, what does Yanagisawa know, anyway. Half the time, I can't understand a word he says."

Yumiko laughed lightly and turned back toward the kitchen. But in the doorway, she paused.

"Shusuke… you'll be careful playing them, right?"

Fuji smiled and nodded. "Of course."

Once she'd left the doorway, Fuji turned to his plate, resting both elbows on the table. He could still feel Yuuta's eyes on him. He aimed the smile at his brother instead.

"Don't worry. Seigaku won't lose to a team like that."

"Shut up," Yuuta grumbled, stabbing his noodles. "I'm not _worried_. You just want to brag."

Fuji smiled wider and planted his chin on his palms. "I'm really glad you came home this evening."

"Sh…shut up!"

"It's nice."

"Stop that!"

* * *

Kawamurazushi was stuffed with its usual morning crowd, but because that consisted largely of overworked salary-men and underfed students, there wasn't much noise. Taka made his way quickly around the sleepy restaurant, refilling waters and greeting their regulars with as much energy as he thought wouldn't be annoying.

Carrying the water pitcher back to the kitchen, he glanced up at the wall clock for the third time.

"Running late for something?" Taka's father had his morning voice; rough but carefully measured to not be too loud. "School isn't for another forty minutes."

"No, sorry." Taka shook his head to clear it. "I'm just a little distracted today."

"Thinking about your match?"

Taka's shoulders sank apologetically. "Yeah. But I want to focus on work when I'm at work."

His father grinned and smacked his arm. "Good attitude. Just keep it up a little longer, and it'll be tomorrow in no time."

Behind them, the door opened and a group of middle-school aged boys entered, several talking animatedly together. Taka's father called a welcome and hurried to show them to an empty table.

Taka returned to the kitchen to refill the water pitcher. He thought back to the text he'd received the previous night; a reply from Eiji saying that he and Oishi were looking forward to playing a practice game after school.

Taka was beginning to think Oishi wasn't the only one who needed his nerves calmed.

He knew it was silly to get this worked up before the match even started, but it was as Momo had said; they couldn't afford to lose a match with Tezuka gone. After all their captain had sacrificed to get them this far, and now that he was working so hard for the ability to return and support them again…

Letting him down now was simply not an option.

Taka shook his head again. No more distractions. He had to stay focused. Whatever the obstacles and whatever kind of opponents awaited Seigaku, he had to make sure they all made it to the nationals together.

He nodded firmly, even though there was no one to see it, and lifted the now overflowing water pitcher out of the sink.

"Takashi!" His father called, walking back through the kitchen. "Looks like Seigaku isn't the only tennis team that's taken a liking to fine sushi." He grinned proudly. "That group of boys that just came in - do me a favor and fill them up, will you?"

"Right away!" Taka poured off some of the excess water and dried the underside on his apron.

Sure enough, as he came around the corner of the bar, he saw a row of tennis bags lying halfway under the crowded table. Six boys, dressed in their black school uniforms, sat casually around the edges. Their voices managed to stay just a little louder than the murmuring of the whole restaurant put together.

They took no notice of Taka as he approached the table and began filling their water cups. Though, now close enough to hear their conversation easily, it was suddenly all Taka could do not accidently drop the pitcher on the floor.

"Seishun Gakuen?" The wiry boy closest to Taka mumbled. He had wet-looking black hair down to his chin and he poked at his newly filled water cup. "Never heard of it."

A broad-shouldered young man with close-cropped bleached hair fixed him with a glower. "Yes you have, Shun. Stop being so cocky."

"Yeah, well having a reputation doesn't mean they're any good," the black-haired boy returned sulkily. "Just means people have nothing else to talk about."

"Speaking of reputations," A bespectacled young boy at the end of the table spoke up just as Taka reached his cup. "I heard they have a first-year regular."

"Yeah," The student across from him added. "And no one's beat him since he showed up!"

"That's just a rumor," The bleached one said stoically. "It's the captain we need to worry about. Tezuka Kunimitsu. Talk about a reputation…"

"Tezuka's gone."

Taka thought this quiet, sharp voice must belong to the captain of the team, because all the other players looked up when he spoke. Without meaning to, Taka glanced at his face. He sat with his arms crossed, pale face framed by shoulder length hair so black it was almost blue. Just under his low sweeping bangs was a pair of frozen navy eyes, even sharper than his voice.

Taka looked away quickly. He walked around the end of the table to fill the cups on the other side.

"Gone?" Bleach-hair stared at the captain who gave a single half-nod. "Well… that makes things easier, doesn't it?"

"Why do you care, Kinosuke-kun?" This last voice proved to be the loudest in the group, which wasn't surprising; he'd been bouncing up and down on his knees and drumming on the tabletop with all ten fingers ever since they'd sat down. He had choppy red hair, slicked straight back on one side and sticking out wildly on the other. "Tezuka Kunimitsu is always in singles one or two. You're gonna be in three, right?"

Kinosuke rolled his broad shoulders back and crossed his arms. "What makes you say that."

"Intuition! As long as these two rookies can pull it out for doubles two," he jerked his thumb toward the two boys at the end, who nodded vigorously. "And once me and Shun bust up doubles one, we'll be finishing with three consecutive wins. Annihilating the famous Seishun Tennis Club; I know there's no _way_ you're gonna miss out. Only question is who _you'll_ get to destroy!"

The red-haired teenager dissolved into chuckles. Taka finished filling the captain's cup as slowly as possible. But he knew if he hung around any longer, they'd start to wonder about their strangely clingy waiter. He turned back toward the bar counter.

"I know who, too," the loud voice went on gleefully. "Seigaku's as cocky as they come, right? So they'll stick the first-year in singles one. Since our captain here's got the rep as a power player, once he's in singles two, they'll have to put Little Mr. Prodigy in singles three!"

Taka stopped, clutching the pitcher handle tightly.

"Izumi, _what_ are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on. You'd know the name if you heard it." The red-haired boy's drumming fingers wrapped up with a two handed beat. "Kinosuke-kun, how would you like to be the one to crush Genius Fuji Shusuke?"

Taka slowly set the pitcher down on the bar counter as he reached it, putting all his effort into not turning around.

"Fuji Shusuke, huh?" Kinosuke's deep voice mused. There was suddenly a flavor of dark pleasure in it. "That might not be so bad."

"How do you guys know all this _random_ stuff about some _random_ team?" Shun whined. "I think you sound like a couple of stalkers."

"Shun-chan, _nobody_ asked you."

"Don't call me that."

"Shinta-buchou. What do you think?" Kinosuke waited and once again, the whole team fell silent, even Izumi.

"Yes," the captain replied at length. "Fuji Shusuke is probably Seigaku's greatest weapon now. But by nature of sheer size… with a technique like yours, it will likely be a default within three games."

"So you want me in singles three?"

There was another pause and Taka felt his insides freeze.

"I do. No sense holding back this close to the nationals. Break him."

* * *

_TBC..._

* * *

Glossary:

_Nee-san_ and _Nee-chan_ - Terms meaning 'Older Sister'

_Yakisomen_ - Fried Japanese somen noodles

_Kawamurazushi_ - Taka's dad's sushi restaurant


	3. Enemies

Chapter 3

* * *

The yellow blur made a whistling sound as it shot through the air, only to have its trajectory completely reversed as it smacked off the gut of Fuji's racket. Before the ball had even crossed the cord, Eiji had launched into a hand spring, throwing his feet high in the air and twisting his racket arm around to meet the shot diagonally.

"Hoi, _hoi!_" He called in time with the _whoosh-smack!_ of the ball. Propelled by new speed, it spiraled for the center line.

Taka dove toward it, but it whizzed past the rim of his racket by a full four centimeters. It made an inglorious scraping sound as it bounced off the ground.

"Too bad!" Eiji grinned, wrapping his racket around the back of his neck. "Maybe next week!"

"Nice, Eiji!" Oishi high-fived him as they switched positions.

"As expected from the Golden Pair, huh?" Taka sighed.

"So true." Fuji couldn't find it in himself to mind, though. The breeze was pulling the last of the wisteria petals free from their hanging branches around the court, and they twirled and danced in the air over the net.

He heard Taka's heavy breathing next to him, and the scraping of their shoes over the cement. The summer heat had them both sweating hard and every breath of wind was welcome refreshment.

Playing doubles like this, surrounded by friends; this peaceful comfort; to him, this was real tennis. At least for the moment, it needed not be anything more.

Fuji pulled another ball out of his pocket and bounced it twice on the cement. "Sorry, Oishi. You were telling us about the play-order for tomorrow?"

He tossed the ball and served it toward the left of court. Oishi was there in two steps and lobbed it high.

"Yeah, I had to get help from Inui working it out. He's gathered a little more data on the team. He said it's been hard finding anything though."

"Why's that?" Taka greeted the ball with a smash. "Nn… Great-o!"

"Not sure." Oishi lobbed the ball again and Fuji ran backwards down court. "He couldn't find out where they practice. Also, the last team they played – oh."

A whirlwind of light and color churned wildly around Fuji at the end of the court. He spun hard so his back was to them. Slicing the air before him with his racket, he dropped to one knee, both arms sweeping to the sides. The ball lit off the strings like a firework and arched through the air.

"Triple Counter," Fuji murmured contentedly. "Higuma Otoshi."

The ball touched down lightly near the back line, bouncing high one more time before coming to rest against the chain-link fence.

Oishi turned to Eiji and grimaced. "Sorry. Guess I shouldn't have lobbed it."

Eiji grinned and patted his shoulder. "Do'mai."

Fuji stood up, resting the racket frame in his empty hand. "The last team they played…?"

Oishi shook his head. "Right… Inui said it was difficult to get anything out of them. Like they didn't want to talk about it."

Eiji said, "That's kinda weird, isn't it?"

Fuji thought of his conversation with Yuuta the day before. _"…three of the regulars on the opposing team were hurt after playing Hachiyama. I don't know, maybe it was bad enough to…"_

He frowned, returning Eiji's serve without much feeling.

"Anyway," Oishi went on, pausing to smack the ball back toward Taka. "I've decided to put Inui and Kaido in doubles two ─" Taka smashed the ball down over the net. "…and me and Eiji in doubles one."

"Sounds good!" Eiji came out of his cartwheel in midair, throwing the racket out behind him. "Kikumaru-Beam!"

The ball shot straight from the center of the racket and bounded between Taka and Fuji again, skipping several times off the ground before rolling under a bench.

"That's match point!" Eiji announced, sticking up two fingers triumphantly.

Oishi laughed, bouncing a new ball next to him. "The singles slots were tricky. Noda Kinosuke looks tough, but Inui found out that the captain's the real power player. Noda seems to have some kind of mystery technique, so since he usually plays singles three, I decided to put you there this time, Fuji."

"Mm. No problem."

"So then Taka will be in two against the captain, and I'll put Echizen in one." Oishi served, sending the ball in a tight arch over the net. It smacked off the ground a half-step to Taka's right and bounced harmlessly away. Taka didn't seem to have even seen it.

"Yay, yay!" Eiji leapt in the air, kicking his feet out behind him. "Golden Pair victory!"

Fuji smiled, watching the two celebrate, and awaited Taka's traditional howl of crushing defeat. After a moment's pause, he looked to the side in confusion.

Taka still hadn't moved. He remained crouched in the receiver stance, staring at something unseen beyond the net.

"Taka-san?" Fuji stepped up beside him, head tilting in an attempt to see his friend's face. "Is something wrong?"

"Eh?" Taka straightened up suddenly, racket falling limply in his left hand. "Oh. Yeah – I'm sorry! I should've gotten that one."

"It's alright."

"I guess I let myself get distracted again."

"You're probably just dehydrated," Fuji assured him. "It's been awfully hot lately. Why don't I go get us some drinks?"

This last, he addressed to the court at large. Oishi nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Fuji."

Eiji popped up over Oishi's shoulder and added, "Orange Natchan, please!"

"Sounds good; times four then. I'll be right back!" Fuji walked out of the gate, still carrying his racket lightly in both hands.

Taka watched him go, squeezing the grip of his own racket hard. He could feel it shifting up and down in his sweaty palm but somehow, he didn't feel like putting it down. He heard Eiji walk off the court, saying in a sing-song voice something about picking up the escaped balls.

Taka glanced back out the gate to make sure Fuji was out of sight. Then he walked around the net. Oishi stood on the other side, absently testing his racket tension.

"Oishi-fukubuchou…"

At the sound of his title, Oishi straightened up quickly as if standing at attention. "Yes?"

"I'm… sorry to even ask; I now you and Inui worked hard on the play order, but…"

"Is there something wrong with it? It's okay, go ahead and say so. I don't know how Tezuka always does it! Somehow he just _knows_ who will do best in which position."

He'd started twirling racket jerkily between his hands. Taka shook his head earnestly. "No, no! It makes a lot of sense - I think it's a great lineup!"

"Really?" Oishi's shoulders sagged a bit and one eyelid still appeared to be twitching, but he stopped spinning the racket.

"Sure! It's just… Would it be alright if I switched places with Fuji?"

"Huh?" He stopped twitching and looked puzzled. "But… Inui's pretty sure that the captain's the power-player this time…"

"Yeah… the truth is…" Taka stopped a moment. If he was going to do this, he couldn't let Fuji find out the reason. That meant avoiding the whole truth with Oishi, as well. His sweaty hand felt slippery against the racket and he gripped it tighter. "Some of the Hachiyama regulars… they came into Dad's restaurant this morning."

Oishi stared at him. "Really?"

"Yeah… they didn't know me, but I saw the captain. He looks… tricky. But not very big; I think Fuji would handle him best. And the other one… Kinosuke… He's more like my size. Maybe it would be a better match…?"

Oishi pressed a knuckle over his mouth in thought. "We don't know anything about Kinosuke's mystery technique, though… Are you alright with that?"

"Definitely!" Taka nodded eagerly, trying to sound a little more confident than he felt. He waved his racket up and down to assist him. "That guy won't know what hit him!"

Oishi laughed and nodded firmly. "Alright, then. If it's you, we'll win singles three for sure, right?"

"Right!"

Just then, Eiji came bounding up to them again, carrying an armload of tennis balls. "Oishi, let's have a one-game match while we wait for Fuji!"

Oishi blinked. "You're not tired?"

"Umm…" Eiji considered it, shrugged, and shook his head so quickly, his hair became a reddish cloud around his face. "Nope. Let's play, let's play!"

"Okay, okay!" Oishi agreed, sighing apologetically toward Taka. "Guess it can't be helped."

"No problem!" Taka turned and made his way toward the gate. "I'll just go splash some water on my face and come back."

"Alright!"

He stepped out of the court enclosure. Now he was holding his racket so tightly, it made his hand ache. He loosened his grip and let go a long exhale. Drawing himself up, he made his way determinedly toward the drinking fountain.

He had to focus. No matter what the obstacle, no matter what opponent awaited them tomorrow, he had to make sure that each one of them made it nationals. Together.

In one piece.

* * *

Aside from being bored silly, Yuuta wasn't too bothered about the lack of tennis practice this particular afternoon. The heat had shifted from oppressive to downright stifling.

Yanagisawa had said to meet at the park vending machine area. Though the park was scarcely a one-kilometer stroll from school, in the full sunlight, it was beginning to feel like a fifty-kilometer-marathon.

He was now some twenty meters from the beverage machines, and the languid haze turned their box forms into jell-o. Sweat trickled down the back of Yuuta's Regulars polo shirt, soaking the white fabric. His forehead had glaze of perspiration that collected in his hairline before trickling down to his chin.

He was going to die. What would become of his personal legacy then? And what would they write on his tombstone?

_Here lies Fuji Shusuke's Little Brother_

_Lived in a Prodigy's Shadow_

_Died in an Unholy Heatwave_

He hoped Yanagisawa would feel properly mortified for setting their meeting point so far away. Swinging his school bag over one shoulder, he tugged on his collar until the top buttons popped open. It was useless. He also hoped that Atsushi still had his summer cold, or else all this effort was for nothing.

"Hey! Private School!"

Yuuta startled a little, stopping in his tracks. As annoying nicknames went, at least this one was new. He turned in the direction of the loud voice.

A group of three middle-school students were walking across the lawn toward the cement walkway. It only took a glance to see that they were tennis regulars. Their dark orange and black uniforms made them look like giant wasps gliding over the grass.

Each one shouldered a heavy black tennis bag with a stylized number eight and a name printed on the side. As they drew closer, Yuuta could just make out the kanji.

"Hachi…yama," he said under his breath.

"Oi!" The same voice called to him, coming from a red-haired boy about as tall as Yuuta. "You know if the Seishun Gakuen Tennis Club is around here? We heard their practice courts are near this park."

They finally came to a stop unusually close; just barely arms-length from him. The red-haired one stood next to a boy with slippery black hair and a morose expression on his white face. Each of them held a nearly empty juice can in one hand and clutched their bag-straps with the other.

A few steps away, standing nearly a head taller than the other two, there was a young man with a face like steel razor. Yuuta had a feeling that a person could cut themselves just by looking directly at his eyes.

"Well?" Red-hair prompted impatiently.

"Uh…" Yuuta looked back at the two closest. "I don't mean to be rude but, why do you wanna know?"

"Just offering our greetings," said the morose one, then added in a mumble, "Even though it's an oven out here…"

The red-haired boy punched him in the arm. "_You_ wanted to come, Shun-chan."

"Ow. Don't call me that."

"Our team is playing theirs tomorrow, see," Red-Hair went on to Yuuta again, as if he hadn't heard. "We wanna be polite an' all. So do they… Hey!"

Yuuta jumped again; the boy's loud tone had returned. "What?"

"I know you!"

Shun looked sideways at his teammate. He and Yuuta said together, "You do?"

"Yeah! No! Well - I know that uniform. Saint Rudolph, right? We were supposed to play you guys!"

Yuuta felt a tightening inside him. Without realizing it, he had been hoping they wouldn't recognize him. He remembered them now; the loud red-head and the katana-faced captain. The two who had put Akazawa on edge and made Mizuki look paler than usual.

And now they were looking for Seigaku.

They had heard correctly; Seishun's D Court was just up one of the park paths, through the trees on their left. Again without meaning to, Yuuta swallowed.

"So which one are you?" Red-Hair said eagerly.

"Izumi-senpai," the morose boy muttered. "Aren't you getting off the subject?"

Again, he was ignored. "What position do you play?"

Yuuta could feel his face twitching, but he answered, "Usually singles three. My name's Fuji Yuuta."

A moment later, he wished he'd left out the last part; he'd finally managed to get the attention of Captain Carving-Knife.

"Are you?" The captain said in a voice that matched his face.

"Seriously?" Izumi threw his head back and laughed. "What are the odds? Fuji Shusuke's little brother!"

"Hey, don't - !" Yuuta stopped himself. Right now, the last thing he wanted to be was confrontational. He settled instead for, "…it's Yuuta, okay?"

"In that case, I'll bet you know _exactly_ where Seigaku practices. Right?"

Yuuta looked hard at Izumi's amber-red eyes. He didn't like this new tone in the Hachiyama Regular's voice.

Then, with a drop of relief, he remembered what his brother had said the previous day. "Yeah, I do. But they canceled practice today. I don't know where they are."

Izumi tucked his chin back in surprise. He glanced over his shoulder at their expressionless captain.

The short silence was punctured by Shun's sing-song whine. "He's _lying_."

"What?!" Yuuta glared at him. "Why would I lie?"

Shun shrugged, sliding his tennis bag strap off his shoulder and down his arm. He said simply, "'Cause you're an enemy,"

Now Yuuta felt truly confused. "…an enemy? Being on different teams doesn't make us enemies. Our schools never played each other!"

"Good point," said Izumi, still with that dangerous aftertaste to his eager voice. He'd already slid his own bag off and unzipped the top. "…What say we have that match _now_?"

Yuuta stared at them. Then he shook his head, feeling a few more drops of sweat roll down his back. "I don't know what's up with you guys, but I'm not playing you here."

"Don't have to," Shun hummed, sliding a bright red racket out of his bag. "We'll just play you."

Yuuta glanced at the captain, but finding the jagged eyes on his, he looked back at the other two quickly. "I don't have my racket with me, okay?"

Izumi rolled his head to one side. He took a step back with his own dark gray racket in hand. "Huh… works for me."

"What… Hey -!"

Izumi crunched his juice can in one hand and tossed it in the air. There was thin clanking sound as he caught it hard on the gut and sent it flying toward Yuuta's head.

Yuuta threw an arm up to shield his face just in time to see Shun serve his own can, a little lower. As Izumi's can smacked off of Yuuta's head just above his ear, Shun's hit him in the chest, spraying his white shirt with the remaining dark red juice.

"Thirty-love!" Izumi announced loudly, knocking forearms with Shun.

"Knock it off!" Yuuta backed up a step. Internally, he vowed to never leave his racket at home again. "What's _wrong_ with you two?"

"So, Private School." Izumi winked. "Where do we find Seigaku?"

"Hey…"

Although the new voice was soft with disinterest, all four of them spun abruptly to face down the walkway. There stood a short middle-schooler in a blue-and-white jersey, a racket propped lightly on one shoulder, and a white baseball cap shadowing his eyes beneath dark bangs.

"Sorry but…" He stood on one foot, tilting sideways to look past Izumi and Yuuta. His slanted, hazel eyes came up and he gestured with them alone toward the beverage machines beyond them. "It's hot," he explained. "Could you guys move?"

Yuuta stared at him. "E – Echizen!"

Echizen looked at him blankly, as if just noticing his presence. "… Who're you?"

Yuuta's left lower eyelid sprang halfway up. "Wah –hey!"

"Well, _well!_" Izumi swung his racket through the empty air triumphantly. "Guess my intuition was right after all; we've got ourselves a Seigaku regular! What'd I tell you, Shinta?"

"_Echizen Ryoma_… is it?" The captain's sharp voice made Yuuta shiver. "Seigaku's ace rookie, if I'm not mistaken."

Echizen's expression didn't so much as flicker. "Dunno about that. Could you move?"

"Woah, talk about coincidence!" Izumi swung his racket back down to point at Yuuta. "I heard the famous Seigaku First-Year played _singles three_ in the St. Rudolph match. My intuition is unbeatable!"

"Izumi-senpai just knows a lot of useless things," Shun muttered and was promptly smacked in the arm.

"Is that true… Echizen-kun?" Shinta's eyes still hadn't moved from Echizen's shadowed face.

Echizen, in return, gave a fraction of a shrug. "I don't remember."

"Interesting." Shinta took a step back. He reached down into Shun's open bag, and pulled out two tennis balls. "Then Fuji Shusuke's younger brother…" he took three slow steps down the path toward Echizen, racket held under one arm. "…is your enemy?"

Echizen's hooded eyes held the captain's a moment longer, and then he shook his head. "Hnn… now I remember. The one who one that match… was me, huh? Won fair and square. I don't remember making any enemies."

Shinta stopped. "Echizen-kun. Those who oppose you…" he tossed one of the balls low, whipped the racket out from his arm, and served straight at Echizen's face.

Echizen's racket was already there waiting for it. He caught the ball on the center strings and slid the racket down flat, cradling the ball until it spun to a halt at the rim. Yuuta's mouth fell open. He'd never seen anyone besides his brother do that.

Shinta narrowed his sharp eyes and finished quietly, "…are they not your enemies?"

"I told you, I won that match."

"Victory has nothing to do with it. An enemy is an enemy." Shinta pointed his racket toward Yuuta. "When they cross your path, you must remind them who is stronger."

Yuuta's eyes darted from Shinta's racket to Echizen.

Echizen looked incredulous; his first expression so far. "Why bother? Besides, he doesn't even have a racket."

"It doesn't matter." Shinta moved back two steps, sliding his remaining tennis ball against the racket strings. "Echizen-kun, if you are the strongest, remind him. Otherwise…" He threw the ball high, swinging his sharp gaze around to lock on Yuuta. "…someone else will take your place."

Izumi jumped back and yelled, "There it is! Shinta-buchou's Shrapnel-Serve!"

The racket blurred in motion as Shinta leapt and hammered the ball in midair. Yuuta's breath caught in his throat. The streak of yellow color turned blue at the edges as it rocketed toward the right side of his vision. He knew he couldn't move away in time.

But the ball never reached him. Moving like lightening, a second ball suddenly spiraled in from the side. The two collided, knocking each other off course. Yuuta felt a light breeze from the second ball as it flew clear past him, and Shinta's bounced harmlessly off the ground near his feet.

Ten steps away, Echizen slowly lowered his racket, eyes invisible beneath the brim of his hat.

Shinta's gaze flashed back to him. "Why you - "

He cut off and they all started in surprise; yet another tennis ball appeared out of nowhere, striking Shinta's racket hand hard. There was a violent snapping noise and a yelp of pain escaped Shinta's mouth. His racket tumbled from his grip and clattered onto the cement.

He spun around, looking behind him. Then he turned an accusatory look on Shun and Izumi.

Izumi threw his palms up earnestly, holding his own racket loosely with one thumb. "Not us, Shinta! Musta' been Private School, here."

Yuuta scoffed. "Oh, for the love of ─! I _don't have a racket_, idiot!"

"Hey! I'd a'thought Fuji Shusuke's little brother would have better manners."

"Don't call me 'little brother', either!"

"Haah, can't we just go now?" Shun moaned. "It's _hot_."

"Mm." Shinta had regained his cold tone and he bent down to pick up his racket. "I think we've sufficiently offered our greetings."

The other two promptly re-zipped their bags and shouldered them. Shun walked around behind Yuuta, picking up his two fallen tennis balls and grumbling.

"Please tell your fellow Regulars," Shinta went on, still watching Echizen. "We're looking forward to tomorrow's match."

"Aa-ah…" Echizen sighed despondently, propping his racket on his left shoulder once more. "I'm not. How boring."

He walked straight ahead, passing all three of them, and paused next to Yuuta. Without turning, he let out another sigh.

"I thought it was gonna be a fun match. But now turns out…" He looked halfway over his other shoulder. "…you guys don't know anything about tennis."

Facing forward again, Echizen resumed his walk toward the vending machine area.

"Sheesh." Izumi huffed air up at his red bangs, turning to follow Shinta down the path. "What a cocky freshman. I hope Okazaki makes him cry."

"No way they'll make it 'til singles one," Shun mumbled.

"Hahah! You said it!" Izumi's loud voice continued on down the sidewalk, occasionally punctuated by Shun's mournful commentary.

Yuuta suddenly realized that, somehow, his presence had been completely forgotten. Feeling irked, he turned his back on the Hachiyama trio and ran several steps to catch up with Echizen.

"Hey, um…" he came around in front of the first-year, causing them both to stop.

Echizen released his third long-suffering sigh. "What."

"Nothing, uh… Thanks. I mean, I was fine, but… you know, thanks anyway." He gave a half-laugh. "I don't know _how_ you aimed two at once like that."

"You saw me; I only had one."

Yuuta blinked. "But… I _saw_ another ball hit that Shinta-guy in the hand. If it wasn't you, then who…?"

"Dunno. Pardon me." He moved to step around Yuuta, only to find his way blocked again.

"Look, don't… uh, don't tell my brother about this, okay?" Yuuta looked down, rubbing the back of sweaty neck. "He gets… weird about stuff like that, and I don't want him playing distracted tomorrow. Saint Rudolph lost to Seigaku, so Seigaku had better not lose to the likes of Hachiyama… Aniki, especially. I guess what I mean is…"

At last, Yuuta looked up in time to see Echizen, who had walked a full five meters away. "When did he – Oi! Aren't you listening?!"

"Ah," Echizen replied, voice raised just enough to be heard at a distance. "My ears are broken now. Because it's so hot."

"This guy…" Yuuta growled. "Fine! Just - _don't_ tell him, okay?"

Echizen waved hand at shoulder-height. "Got it, got it."

Yuuta's shoulders sagged. Between the heat, the confrontation, and Echizen Ryoma, he was going to be too exhausted by the time practice started again. Just then, he heard a nasally voice coming from across the park behind him.

"O-o-oi! Yuu-uuta-aa!"

He turned around. "Ah! Yanagisawa! You're so late!"

Behind Echizen there was the sound sneaker-soles scraping pavement as Yuuta ran to meet his teammate.

"What happened to your shirt?" The nasally voice asked.

"Oh, I – I just spilled some juice I was drinking."

"Hahah! Kinda' klutzy, aren't you?"

"Sh – shut up! Let's get going; Atsushi-senpai will think we're not coming."

Through the haze of heat, their conversation became distorted and eventually faded away.

Echizen finally reached his beverage machine and pulled out a one hundred yen coin. He popped it in the slot and punched the familiar Ponta code without looking.

His gaze wandered slowly across the park and the wisteria trees surrounding it. Then abruptly, he stopped and glanced back into the trees on the left. Through them, some eight meters away, another cement walkway ran parallel his.

Echizen's eyes lingered on the bright blue-and-white jersey that had caught his attention. Shaded by branches and half-hidden behind a tree trunk, Fuji stood on the other walkway, clutching his racket tightly in one hand.

Echizen blinked. He automatically moved to stick up two fingers in greeting, but then stopped. Fuji wasn't looking at him.

His dark eyes were narrowed to mere slits, staring hard at the spot where Echizen and Yuuta had been standing moments ago. The blue irises looked like twin hurricanes.

Then abruptly, still without seeing Echizen, he spun back toward the path. With a flash of white-and-blue and a toss of light brown hair he vanished.

The beverage machine made a whirring sound and a juice can tumbled into the bottom container. Echizen reached down and pulled it out, snapping it open as he straightened up.

Racket in one hand and juice in the other, he walked on past the machines, and left the park empty at last.

* * *

_TBC..._

* * *

Glossary:

_fukubuchou_ - Vice-captain

_do'mai_ - A cheerful, if corny, way of saying "don't worry about it" (lit; 'don't mind").

_Orange Natchan_ - A Japanese juice brand

_Higuma Otoshi_ - One of Fuji's counters, lit; "Brown Bear Drop"

_Aniki_ - term meaning "older brother"


	4. Rotten Tennis

Chapter 4

* * *

"What do you think?"

In the mid-morning shadow of the recreation building, Oishi and Eiji stood side by side, re-reading the play order chart in silence.

_Japan Junior Tennis: Kanto Regional Quarter Finals_

_Hachiyama Chuu vs. Seishun Gakuen_

_Doubles 2: Endo Kaname & Yoshida Ryuu vs. Inui Sadaharu & Kaido Kaoru _

_Doubles 1: Izumi Hiro & Murasaki Shun vs. Oishi Shuichiro & Kikumaru Eiji_

_Singels 3: Noda Kinosuke vs. Kawamura Takashi_

_Singles 2: Shinta Yuiki vs. Fuji Shusuke_

_Singles 1: Okazaki Kensho vs. Echizen Ryoma _

"I think we're gonna win!" Eiji declared, bouncing on one foot.

"Heh…" Oishi looked sideways at him and smiled weakly.

As usual, Eiji was too energetic to stand still for two seconds together. Oishi had hoped (in vain, it seemed) that by standing next to his partner, some smidgen of that confidence would rub off on him.

"Is the play order okay?" Oishi ran a hand over his eyes. "I went over it for hours last night… to the end, I wasn't sure about it…"

"It looks great to me… Fukubuchou." The two turned to see Momoshiro standing a few steps behind them, racket braced around the back of his head with both hands. "Looks like Tezuka himself set it up."

"Momo." Oishi sighed gratefully. "…I'm sorry you're not playing."

"Don't sweat it! Can't leave you without a cheerleader, can I? Sure can't!" He released one side of the racket to give them both a thumbs-up. "Speaking of the captain, have you heard from him lately?"

Oishi shook his head, taking his cell phone from his pocket. "I sent him an email day-before-yesterday, but I haven't – oh!" The screen showed a tiny closed-envelope icon in the corner. "He must've replied after I left this morning."

Eiji bounced up to look over his shoulder. "What's it say, what's it say?"

Momo leaned close and Oishi took a deep breath. Slowly, he moved his thumb up the screen and clicked the icon.

"Everyone… Let's go with no regrets."

A small gust of wind swirled past them, blowing a single leaf down the sidewalk.

"Well…" Momo cleared his throat. "He added 'everyone' this time."

"Mm," Eiji agreed. "That's new."

The silence continued for another few seconds, and then broke as a set of footsteps approached them. They all looked up at once as the new party came around the building's corner.

Oishi said, "Oh, good morning, Fuj -" and then stopped. "F… Fuji?"

Fuji's dark blue eyes didn't appear to be seeing on any of them. Instead of holding his racket lightly in both hands, he grasped it tightly in one. The breeze had returned and it blew his long bangs low across his face.

Momo shivered and whispered to Eiji, "What's with this aura?"

Eiji nodded. "Fuji looks serious…"

"…Are you… ready for the match?" Oishi tried. "I… Oh, I meant to call you – I changed the play-order yesterday. Taka-san thought it would be better to switch the two of you."

Fuji finally looked up, eyes focusing on him for the first time. "Switch?"

"Yeah, you'll be playing the Hachiyama captain, Shinta Yuiki, in singles two instead. Is… that okay?"

"Mm." Fuji closed his eyes in a thin smile. "That suits perfectly."

"Uh… good! We're all set, then."

"Ah!" Eiji spun to the right suddenly, waving his whole arm in the air. "Taka-san! Inui!"

The two waved and nodded respectively as they came around the court enclosure. Inui crossed to the play order chart and stopped in front of Oishi. His deep voice was dropped conspiratorially as he opened a notebook between them.

Taka greeted Momo as he passed him, and then came to stand in front of Fuji. "Morning!"

"Good morning," Fuji said easily. He loosened his grip on the racket a little. Knowing the new play order was making it easier to put on a smile. "Did you sleep well?"

"Eh-heh." Taka's eyes squinted shut with a strained smile. "How about you?"

Out of the finely-tuned tension inside him, Fuji felt a breath of laugher rise up. "Not at all."

Taka chuckled, rubbing the short hair at the back of his neck. "Well… let's give it our best today, anyway."

"Yes."

The breeze blew the first of the day's promised heat over them. For a moment, Fuji's breath fell in time with it.

Behind them, Momo called a loud greeting; Echizen must've arrived. Taka nodded to Fuji and walked over to join the group of conversation.

Slowly, the shadow of the recreation building faded into overcast as the bank of gray clouds finally caught up with the sun.

The scene at the park played through Fuji's mind once again; it had been on a perpetual loop since the previous afternoon. By the time he had returned to D Court, a familiar feeling had taken up residence in the pit of chest. It was the same feeling as that time.

_"Mizuki. Just to confirm, did you teach Yuuta the twist-spin knowing the affect it would have on his body?"_

_"Heh. You know… a fool who only thinks of surpassing his brother… someone like that is easy to manipulate."_

This red feeling.

Fuji watched his excited teammates; Inui scribbling madly in his notebook; Eiji bouncing impatiently on his toes, watching Oishi's practice swings; Momo head-locking Echizen for yawning while Taka made hesitant attempt to separate them.

He gripped his racket hard again.

"Hachiyama Chuu…" He murmured. "You… will lose."

* * *

"Game set! Won by Hachiyama; Endo, Yoshida pair. Seven games to five."

The referee's voice finished off and Horio picked up with moan of disbelief.

Kachiro breathed, "Inui-senpai and Kaido-senpai..."

"...Lost?" Katsuo exchanged mournful looks with him.

"Those Hachiyama guys are no good," Horio declared. "The way they play tennis is off!"

"Horio-kun! You're not trying to say they cheat, are you?"

"No…" The three first-years looked up at their senior. "But there is something strange in this play style."

Kachiro made a concerned face. "What do you mean, Fuji-senpai?"

Fuji propped his right elbow on his crossed left arm, one knuckle just barely brushing his mouth. "Their movements are fast, but not preemptive; their returns violent but oddly aimed. It seems as if… their goal isn't winning with points."

"Fuji, you noticed it, too?"

They looked up as Inui stepped through the court entrance and back to the benches. Behind him, a dust-and-sweat-covered Kaido clomped over the threshold, looking ready to eat someone.

Fuji frowned and nodded. "It's as if they…"

"They what?" Katsuo and Horio said in unison.

Inui pushed his glasses further up his sweaty face. "They're objective is to force a default, rather than to win by superior score."

The trio looked back and forth between the two of them in confusion.

"No worries!" Eiji appeared from behind Inui, grinning with one eye open. "Just leave this one to us!"

"That's right." Oishi held racket by his side, and he nodded firmly to each of them before leading the way onto the court. "The next victory will go to Seigaku!"

"Doubles one," the referee called out. "Hachiyama; Izumi Hiro, Murasaki Shun versus Seigaku; Oishi Shuichiro, Kikumaru Eiji. Seigaku service play."

"Al_ri_-_ight_!" Izumi swung his racket over his head like a lasso. "The famous Golden Pair! I've been looking forward to this!"

"You know about _them_, too?" The stringy-haired Shun glanced critically between them. "…_Why?_"

Oishi gave Izumi a polite smile and put out his hand. "Let's have a good match."

Next to him, Eiji shook hands with Shun who sighed heavily, as if the movement required great effort.

"Oh, yeah," Izumi agreed, shaking Oishi's hand eagerly. "It's gonna be fun…" As they separated, he turned with Shun so they stood facing down-court, shoulder to shoulder. Izumi tilted his head back and added softly, "… crushing you two."

Oishi's mouth opened slightly, his gaze hardening. Then he felt Eiji poke him in the elbow.

"Oishi. Let's win this for Tezuka. Right?"

Oishi looked at him for a moment. Then he sighed. Straightening up, he smiled determinedly. "Right."

"Hee-_hee_!" Eiji stepped to the center of the net as Oishi ran to toward the baseline. "Here we go!"

The referee's voice called over the court, "Game start!"

The ball bounced once off the cement and rocketed back into Oishi's hand. He sprang up and threw it, bringing his racket down after it. Shun caught it at the centerline, driving it toward the left corner.

Oishi jumped and made it in plenty of time to return the shot smoothly. This time, Izumi took it at the net and curved it around Eiji.

Eiji, however, was faster than the ball. Curling into a backwards summersault, he maneuvered the racket up and out. The ball changed course and flew into the wide-open right side of Hachiyama's court.

"Love-fifteen!"

Eiji pulled out of his summersault and sprang up, facing Oishi. They high-fived and leapt back into position for Oishi's next serve.

Behind the fence, all three first-years took turns with high-fives of their own.

"Getting ahead right off the bat!" Momo punched the air with one hand, landing the other flat on Echizen's hat. "That's our Golden Pair!"

"Indeed," said Inui, just as the ref called a love-thirty. "As usual, Oishi is making the most of his service game."

"Kikumaru-senpai is super energetic, too!" Katsuo added.

By the time the sun had come out from behind the clouds again, Eiji's backhand volley streaked in and out of the opposite court and Seigaku was ahead four games.

The pair knocked rackets on the way to the bench and sat down. Taka ran over with their water-bottles.

"Amazing, you two! Four games to nothing already!"

"Thanks, Taka-san," said Oishi. "We can't let our guard down yet, though. Hachiyama serves next."

Eiji finished downing most of his water and gasped for air. "Going with no regrets, right? Hoi, _hoi!_ Let's do it!"

Oishi laughed. "How's your energy?"

Eiji leapt off the bench, both hands up with peace-signs. "Perfect!"

"Okay, then!"

The referee called and they ran back onto the court. Izumi and Shun already stood at the net. With both hands behind his neck, Izumi dangled his racket down his back.

"Hey, Shun-chan," he said, loud voice easily heard across the net. "My intuition tells me… it's time to turn this match around."

"Fine by me," Shun moped, his own racket looking like a dead fish in his limp hand. "I'm getting so bored."

The ref called, "Hachiyama, Murasaki to serve."

Shun slowly began bouncing the ball more times than necessary. At long last, he tossed it low and smacked his bright red racket down on it. The serve didn't appear to be anything special. Eiji stayed at the net, keeping his focus on Izumi. He heard the _pock_ of Oishi's return and bounced on his feet, ready to move.

"Hey, Kitty." Izumi's red-amber eyes flashed over his smirk. "Where are you looking?"

"Nn -?" Eiji turned his head a fraction to the side and nearly jumped out of his skin. Shun had appeared right against the net, scarcely a meter away. His sullen gaze was fixed on Eiji.

"Eiji, look out –!"

Oishi's voice was drowned out by the powerful smash of Shun's racket. Eiji felt a heavy blow in the center of his chest and he stumbled backwards. Suddenly off balance, he barely managed to keep hold of his racket as he landed hard on the cement.

"Fifteen-love," the ref called.

"Eiji!" There was a sound of running footsteps behind him.

Shun looked down at him through half-closed eyes. "See, Izumi-senpai? Nothing special."

"Careful, Shun-chan. You don't wanna underestimate the _Golden_ _Pair_. They're some of Seigaku's _best_."

"And they made it this far? What a joke."

Eiji felt Oishi pulling on his arm and he got back to feet, tearing his eyes away from the doubles pair.

"Are you alright?"

"Mm." Eiji nodded up and down, spinning his racket in one hand. "Never better! Turns out he's real fast, though."

"Yeah…" Oishi watched Izumi and Shun get back in position across the net. "I have an idea. That combination… I think I can counter it."

"If it's Oishi, you can!"

Eiji walked back to the net, rubbing the sore spot on his chest; it still felt a little numb. He shook himself from his shoulders down to his toes and then crouched back into receiver-stance.

Shun was already bouncing the ball lazily. He tossed it, served, and once again, Eiji kept his eyes trained on Izumi. Then behind him, he heard the familiar clattering of Oishi's racket across this ground.

"Moon Volley!" The yell was accompanied by a _whip_-_snap!_ The ball flew high over their heads.

"Heheh!" Izumi sniggered and drew back a step. "Idiot! With my intuition, you really think I didn't see through _that_ move?"

Eiji braced himself to jump. Izumi swiped his racket straight across the ball as it reached him. The yellow streak zoomed back to the net and there was a tapping sound as it touched the top.

"Cord ball!" Eiji threw his racket out straight to catch it. The ball, however, didn't leave the net. It slid over the line and rolled down the woven cords, as if it were magnetized. It bounced only once and then laid still the ground. Eiji stared. "Wh… what?"

"Thirty-love!"

Izumi dissolved into laughter. "Hahahah! That face! I knew this was gonna be a fun game!"

"Senpai, you're too loud."

"Eiji?"

Eiji looked over his shoulder. Worry had taken over Oishi's face again. He was frowning anxiously at the ball. Eiji bit the inside of his lip, sucking in a deep breath through his nose. He let it go, turned, and ran back to Oishi.

"It's okay! Keep doing the Moon Volley!"

"But…" Oishi looked down at the net-ball hopelessly.

"I can get it," Eiji insisted, spinning back toward the net. He gave a thumbs-up over his shoulder. "I know a way."

Oishi hesitated, then nodded. "Alright."

"If you're all done talking," Shun whined from the center line. He served and Eiji braced himself.

Oishi's racket rattled behind him and then snapped to the ball. There was another whoosh of air and Izumi stepped back to catch the shot.

His racket sliced across the ball's path, sending it streaking to the cord, slightly further away this time. Eiji gripped his racket and dove for the net.

Stinking pain shot through both knees as he slammed them into the cement. He shoved the top frame of his racket into the net and caught the ball as it rolled down. Using both hands, he popped the head of the racket up and the ball jumped half a meter over the net.

It landed neatly on the other side with a light patting noise.

"Thirty-fifteen!"

A cheer went up from the Seigaku-side and Eiji got to his feet. He pointed the racket impishly toward Izumi.

"Aw well, too bad! Maybe next week."

Izumi smirked, spinning his dark gray racket around one hand.

"Nice going!" Oishi called from behind.

"Hoi hoi!" Eiji twirled around, punched the air and grinned. Oishi's eyes became wide.

"…_Eiji_," he breathed.

"Heh-heh…" Eiji looked down sheepishly. His raw-red knees were covered with crisscrossing scrapes. Blood was already beginning to trickle from several of the darker cuts.

Oishi slowly shook his head. "We'll find another counter - "

"No, Oishi…" Eiji met his eyes earnestly. "Even if it's like this, we can win! We just have to break up this one play!"

"Eiji…" He looked away, eyebrows nearly touching in the middle. After a moment, he closed his eyes and exhaled.

Without another word, they returned to their positions.

Back at the benches, Momo leaned against the fence, gritting his teeth. "I don't get it."

Taka glanced sideways at him. "What?"

"Those guys… They don't seem to care that their play was disrupted or even that they lost a point."

"It's like before." Momo and Taka both looked down the fence at Kaido. His ferocious gaze was locked on the court and he hissed under his breath. "They're trying to win with defaults."

"You mean…" Taka trailed off and looked back at Momo.

Out on the court, Izumi sliced the ball to the net and Eiji slammed knees-first onto the cement again. The ball popped up just over the net and touched down.

The referee called, "Thirty-all!"

"It's true." Fuji's voice came quietly from Taka's other side. They all watched as Eiji struggled back to his feet. "This play… is working exactly as designed."

"Hnn…" From behind, Echizen leaned against the top bench, tilting his head back onto the seat. "Sure is rotten tennis."

"Thirty-forty!"

The sun vanished behind the sea of clouds again, plunging the court into soft gray. Eiji pulled one foot shakily under him, leaving another red stain on the court floor. He ran the back of his hand across his forehead to wipe the sweat off.

"Eiji…"

He heard Oishi's voice but didn't fully turn around. Instead he threw a grin over his shoulder. "It's good!"

He turned back to Shun's leisurely ball-bouncing, careful not to look down at his torn-up knees. He could feel a stream of blood making its way down one leg. He set his jaw and swallowed.

"Quite the stubborn kitty, aren't you?" Izumi tilted his head to one side, making his wild red hair tumble over one eye. "You're gonna make Shun bored, ya' know."

Eiji glanced at him, but then looked back at Shun and began spinning the racket in his hands. The serve went up and Oishi's racket rattled behind him. The ball snapped and came back into view, falling toward Izumi's racket again.

Izumi sliced to the opposite end this time and Eiji cart-wheeled toward it. He sucked in a breath and crashed down on the ground, grinding his bloody knees into the cement. Shoving his racket in and up, he popped the ball as high as he could.

Then he gasped and jerked back. Izumi's face had appeared through the net. His amber eyes held Eiji's for a moment, an unpleasant smile on his eager face.

"Hoi hoi," he sang softly.

Wide-eyed, Eiji stared back for a piece of a second. Then realization struck him. "Oishi - !"

Izumi leapt to his feet and hit the falling ball with a drive-swing. Eiji turned his head in time to see the streak of yellow shoot toward Oishi's face. There was dull _thwap_ and it struck squarely into his right eye. Oishi gave a startled cry and fell backwards, losing hold of his racket. He landed on the ground, racket clattering down next to him.

"Forty-all!"

Still on his knees, Eiji turned back to stare up at Izumi.

"Aw well, too bad!" Izumi spun the dark gray racket around his wrist and caught it. Smirking, he pointed it down at Eiji. "Maybe next week."

* * *

Missing the frame's edge by mere centimeters, the clean yellow ball bounced lightly off the indoor tennis court's watery-smooth surface. Tezuka's sneakers emitted a loud squeak has he pulled to halt.

He stared down at the floor blankly, the racket's grip loose in his hand.

"Kunimitsu-kun?" The trainer called gently. "Kunimitsu-kun? Is everything alright?"

He glanced up, eyes refocusing. He tried to relax the tightness out of his forehead. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"Not at all. Would you like to serve the next one?"

"Certainly."

"Alright, gently does it."

Tezuka nodded and pulled another pristine tennis ball out of his pocket. He gave a long exhale.

But the strange, unsettled feeling would not leave him.

* * *

_TBC..._


	5. Intuition vs Improvisation

Guys, thanks for the reviews! I usually don't get many reviews, and I _really_ appreciate all the kind feedback! ^_^

* * *

Chapter 5

* * *

"Hey!" Momo's fist rattled against the fence as he shouted. "Just what kind of game are you playing?!"

"If it keeps going like this…" Katsuo said in a half-whisper. "Will the Golden Pare have to forfeit?"

Kachiro looked down at his shoes. "Even though we're so far ahead…"

Out on the court, Eiji got gingerly back to his feet and turned just as Oishi reached him. A bright red blotch was already taking over the Oishi's right eye.

"What should we do now?" Eiji watched his partner's face. It was creased in concentration, but he looked more worried than ever. "Oishi… If you keep frowning, your forehead will get wider."

"What?" Oishi blinked, one hand moving involuntarily to his forehead. "I… no one really believes that!"

"Hee-_hee!"_ Eiji stuck out on finger and poked him between the eyes. "They want us to give up. Won't they be surprised when we _don't_?"

Oishi winced, rubbing the top of his nose. "Yeah – we can say that, but Eiji… Isn't your time running out?"

Eiji bit his lip. He'd tried to hide it, but now it was impossible; his breath was coming in shallow gasps and his shoulders heaved up and down. Blood was now soaking the cuffs of his socks, and his knees were a mess of gravel and broken skin.

"One more point!" he blurted. "Then Izumi serves the next game. I have an idea!"

They made it back into position just as Shun served. The familiar play repeated itself, but this time, Eiji didn't hold his breath before jumping for the net. Once again, the teeth of the cement sank into his knees and he heard Izumi crouch down on the other side.

The ball popped up and so did Izumi. Taking it as cue, Eiji pressed one hand against the ground and threw all of his weight onto it. He thrust his knees up and launched both legs into the air, sweeping his racket to the side.

As Izumi swung his drive-shot for Oishi again, Eiji tipped to the right and wheeled around onto his feet. Just as the ball crossed the net, his racket was in the center of its path. It ricocheted straight over Izumi's cloud of red hair and hit the ground near Shun's left foot.

There was a moment's delay and then Shun looked down glumly. "Oh."

"Game! Seigaku. Five games to love."

Eiji rocked back on his heels and stuck out his tongue.

Izumi met the look with a sneer. "You got another game left in you, Kitty?" The sneer hardened into a frown. "Enough already. I can predict any move. Just quit before you burnt out."

He turned and walked back toward Shun. Eiji watched until he was far away. Then he bent down, planted both hands just above his bloody knees, and panted hard.

"One more game…"

Oishi came up beside him, putting a hand on his hunched shoulder.

"What's your idea?"

Eiji looked up, pleased to find his a grin still ready for use. "For breaking that Izumi's intuition. We'll use Australian Formation!"

Oishi frowned. "He might see through it, though…"

"Hee!" Eiji nodded. "He can't know _everything_. That's why I'll go to your house and you'll go to mine!"

"…Wha…?" Oishi stared at him blankly for a moment. Then suddenly, his eyes widened and his face lit up. "Uwah! Great idea!"

Eiji giggled and straightened up enough for the two to high-five.

The referee called out, "Score is five-love, Seigaku lead. Hachiyama, Izumi to serve."

Oishi took up position directly behind Eiji and laid out the map in his head. As Izumi threw the ball and bent back to serve, he pictured the sidewalk outside his front door, and the park at the left end.

"Left toward the park," he murmured. The ball cracked of Izumi's racket and Oishi ran left. In front of him, Eiji had started his walk with a right past electronics store.

The ball sailed straight into Oishi's path and he lobbed it toward the baseline. He ran back and, in his mind, took another left at the mailbox while Eiji took a second right.

As Shun's counter came across the net, Eiji leapt up, throwing his racket out behind him. "Kikumaru Beam!"

The ball rocketed back down and streaked straight between Shun and Izumi.

"Love-fifteen!"

Izumi had gone stony-faced. For his next serve, he leaned fully into a back-bend and struck the ball hard toward the left. Eiji appeared again, smoothly knocking it toward the back.

Shun arrived in time to return it to the centerline, but the Golden Pair had already spread out from the middle. Oishi, taking the imaginary crosswalk, threw a backhand counter past Izumi. The latter had to dive to catch it again. He struck it hard to the right corner, only to find Oishi waiting for it again.

"Ugh!" As the ball sailed back, Izumi brought his racket down with a furious crack.

"Out! Love-thirty!"

"Izumi-senpai - "

"No!" Izumi growled under his breath. "It doesn't matter what signal they're using – I'll see through it! I _have_ to."

Across the net, Eiji jumped again, high-fiving Oishi in midair. "I think we're about to pass on the road!"

Oishi laughed. "I think you're right!"

The two were a mess; covered in cement dust and sweat. Oishi's bruise was starting to swell his eye closed, and Eiji was panting like he'd just narrowly escaped drowning.

Izumi shook his head, gripping the ball hard in his free hand. "How can they still…?"

"Um…" Shun looked up dolefully, racket dangling from one hand. "Izumi-senpai… your face is weird."

Izumi's gaze didn't leave the opposite side of the net. "I don't get it… I know all about the Australian Formation… no one can beat my intuition."

Shun let out an exaggerated sigh. "So what's the problem?"

Izumi shook his head. "Those two… I can't read their movements at all."

* * *

"Game set! Won by Seigaku; Oishi, Kikumaru pair. Six games to love."

The entrance gate squeaked as it swung back, admitting Izumi and Shun back to the Hachiyama side of the bleachers. It clanked pointedly behind them. Izumi sighed, tossed his arms up the air, and stretched.

"Aa-ah. Lost that one." He opened one eye at a stormy looking Kinosuke. "Yeesh. Scary face. Not like I didn't try, ya' know. They shoulda' defaulted in the fifth game."

Kinosuke glowered over his crossed arms. "_You_ should've started pushing from the beginning."

"We didn't need to! Mine and Shun-chan's Landslide-Play never loses, and neither does my intuition."

"Enough with the hot air," Kinosuke snapped. "You both lost."

"It was Izumi-senpai's fault." Shun pointed half-heartedly at his partner. "Don't lump me in with him."

Izumi smacked the back of his stringy head. "Shun-chan, you're un-cute is showing again."

"Ow. Don't call me -"

"Would you both be serious for a second?" Kinosuke's eyes hardened on Izumi. The dark pupils flashed dangerously. "A _love_ game? Pathetic. A couple of first-years could've done better."

Izumi returned the glare stubbornly, clenching his racket grip. "We did what we were _supposed_ to, Kinosuke-kun. They were both at their limit; any other day and we would'a- "

"You lost! That's _it_, do you understand? That's all that matters. How can you call yourself 'strongest' anymore? If you fail, if your enemies defeat you, you don't have place on Hachiyama. You're nothing but a weakness."

Izumi's red eyes caught fire and he grabbed a fistful of Kinosuke's jersey. "Why don't you just shut your mouth, huh?!"

"Izumi-senpai…"

"Stay out of this, Shun." Kinosuke seized Izumi's wrist, teeth grinding together. "How 'bout you say that again?"

"Enough."

They all fell instantly silent and looked toward Shinta. His steel gaze stretched across the court to the Seigaku side. Oishi and Momoshiro were helping an exhausted Kikumaru collapse down onto bench.

Shinta leaned ever-so-slightly forward, wrists rested on his knees. A red and purple bruise covered nearly half of his right hand; evidence of the mystery tennis ball from the park.

He didn't look at them.

"Shinta…" Izumi's voice fell nervously. He jerked his wrist out of Kinosuke's grip and took a step forward. "Look… I swear, okay? I dunno what happened but… it'll work next time ─"

"It doesn't matter."

"…doesn't…?"

Finally, Shinta looked sideways at them. "We are still the strongest. Seigaku will not advance beyond this match." His eyes met Kinosuke's. "The play order has changed. Nothing else has. You know what to do."

Kinosuke nodded once. "Yes."

* * *

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!" Eiji flinched and squeezed one eye shut. Momo was dabbing at one of his bloody knees with a wet cloth, holding a can of disinfectant spray in the other hand. Oishi sat on Eiji's right and Fuji sat on the left, a first-aid kit open on his lap.

Fuji gazed distantly in the direction of Eiji's left sock. It was dark with sweat, the cuff stained a brownish red. He looked back out at the temporarily empty court, and watched the doubles match replay in his mind.

_"Even if it's like this, we can win!"_

That same mysterious heat; that radiant, blue feeling. He caught himself once again wondering if he would ever feel it first-hand.

"Almost got it…" Momo muttered in concentration.

"Hey… we won, right?"

Oishi looked up at Eiji, holding an icepack against his blackening eye. "Of course!"

"Yeah… somehow, it doesn't feel as fun..." Eiji frowned out at the court. "…'cause I don't think they wanted to win. They just wanted us to lose."

Oishi and Fuji exchanged looks across the bench. Momo finished cleaning the first knee and folded the cloth over for the second.

"That's what Echizen calls their 'rotten tennis'." Momo's brow creased. "The sooner this match ends, the better."

"Mm. I agree." Fuji handed Momo two gauze bandages from the kit. "Where is Taka-san?"

"Right here." They turned their heads as one. Taka walked past the line of bleachers and stood next to their bench. He'd removed his Regulars jacket and rolled up both sleeves over his shoulders. A little perspiration trickled down his forehead. "Just finished warming up. Are you two okay?"

Oishi and Eiji nodded in unison. The latter returned to his usual grin. "A-Okay! That was nothing!"

"'Nothing', huh?" Momo finished applying the second bandage and gave its surface a smack.

"Ow, _ow!"_ Eiji cringed. "_Momo_…!"

Momo stood back up and grinned semi-seriously. "You made everyone nervous! Eiji-senpai."

Eiji glanced at Oishi, then up at Taka and Momo. His mouth twisted ruefully to one side. "…M'sorry. You weren't nervous, though - right, Fuji?"

Fuji smiled. "No. I knew you two would win."

"Right?" Eiji stuck a fist in the air, pulling his feet up on the bench. "Another victory for the Golden Pair!"

Taka laughed as he turned toward the gate. Fuji quickly set the first-aid kit down and stood up. Crossing his arms tightly in front of him, he walked up beside his friend.

"Taka-san…"

Taka stopped. "Yes?"

"…Be careful. This team is…" he hesitated, then shook his head. Putting the smile back on, he loosened his grip on his arms. "I had fun playing doubles yesterday. Let's do it again soon."

Taka blinked. Then he nodded brightly. "Yeah, let's!"

Oishi walked up then, headed for the coach bench. "Ready, Taka-san?"

"Mm. I'm ready."

* * *

"Singles three. Hachiyama, Noda Kinosuke versus Seigaku, Kawamura Takashi. Best of one set match. Kawamura to serve."

Taka reached across the net with one hand. Kinosuke's bleached hair was glowing in the gray daylight. He glanced appraisingly down at Taka's hand before shaking it with his own.

"Let's have a good match," said Taka.

"Hn." Kinosuke released his hand and sighed. "Not the match I was hoping for."

"I know." Taka held his gaze evenly. "But you won't find anyone on my team is easy to beat."

"Hah." Kinosuke rolled his shoulders back, breaking eye-contact at last. "We'll see about that."

"Start!" The referee called.

Taka stepped to the center line, pulling a ball out of his pocket. All through his warm-up, he'd tried hard to push back this uneasiness. But whether he felt confident or not, one thing was for certain; he wouldn't lose.

He wanted to believe that he had something important to offer his team; something they couldn't do for themselves.

_"I think it's better to have techniques of your own making and to improve them in your own way." _

The ball bounced back into his hand for the third time and he finally tossed it. The racket felt light in his hand and it swung easily through the air. When the ball glanced off, it made a sound like a bullet firing.

Taka pulled himself toward the ground, bracing his feet hard with his racket held like a lance. He stretched and pulled his muscles in and out, concentrating all his power on the racket's momentum.

_"Fuji Shusuke is probably Seigaku's greatest weapon now. But by nature of sheer size… with a technique like yours, it will likely be a default within three games."_

Perhaps he was only strong. But at least this time, that strength was something Seigaku needed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the jumble of red-and-blue jerseys; his friends watching intently as the air around him fluctuated. Fuji was still clutching his own elbows and his blue eyes glinted tensely.

"_That's why your Hadoukyuu is exactly what Seigaku needs from you, Taka-san."_

_"…Thanks, Fuji."_

Across the court, Kinosuke's racket blurred and the streak of yellow shot toward Taka.

_"No point in holding back this close to the nationals. Break him." _

The ball drove into the gut of his racket, grinding madly against its own impact. He waited, letting the momentum build to a dense peak.

They would make to the nationals together. All of them.

Finally, the tension broke and he snapped every muscle in his arm straight out. Like a volcano bursting open, the surging air pushed outward and the ball became as a meteor, streaking across the ground faster than the eye could follow.

There was a loud bang and Kinosuke stared down at the black smudge on the court. For a moment, the only sound to be heard was the rattle of a mangled tennis ball sinking into the back fence.

"F… fifteen-love," the ref called.

Kinosuke looked up in time to see Taka swing his racket high over his head.

"YEAH, BABY! If you can't take the heat then hit the road, _monkey_! Moeruze BURNING!"

* * *

_TBC..._

* * *

Glossary:

_moeruze_ - one of Taka's catch-phrases; essentially means "burning", also.


	6. Forfeit?

Sorry for the late update; my internet's been down. Expect another update soon. ^_^ Thank you again for the reviews~ _*hugz*_

* * *

Chapter 6

* * *

"Game set! My win!" Kamio tossed his racket, let it turn a full revolution in the air, and caught it by the grip smoothly.

"Wait, one more!" said Ishida, panting. "I think it was out, anyway."

"No way! It was in, I saw!" Kamio spun to face the bleachers, popping the racket frame onto his shoulder. "You saw it, right Ann-chan?"

Ann stopped texting and dropped her phone to one hand, wrapping both arms around her pulled-up knees. "Yeah…" She smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Tetsu-kun. It was in."

Ishida sighed sorrowfully. "Well… Let's do one more anyway!"

Kamio shrugged. "Fine by me – hey!"

Now facing the net, he looked past Ishida's shoulder at the sidewalk, which ran alongside their park. Ishida turned to follow his gaze.

"Oh! Is that who I think it is?"

Kamio ran to the edge of the grassy hill and called, "Oi! Yuuta-kun!"

Yuuta ground to a halt on the sidewalk and looked up. "Ah – Kamio-kun, Ishida-san."

"Where's the fire? Come on up; just need one more and we can play doubles!"

"Sorry," Yuuta replied, already starting back into his run. "Can't today!"

Kamio blinked in surprise. "Can't?"

"Yeah," the other called over his shoulder. "There's a match I gotta get to!"

* * *

"Game! Kawamura. Four games to two."

"Amazing, Amazing!" Kachiro and Katsuo jumped up and down, fisting the air. "Kawamura-senpai has completely pulled the match into his own pace!"

"He hasn't even had to use the Hadoukyuu much." Momo looked up at Inui. "I guess you were right after all; Noda Kinosuke isn't much of a power-player."

Inui adjusted his glasses with one hand, holding his folder open in the other. "Mm. Perhaps."

Momo and Kaido watched him for a moment. Momo said, "...Perhaps?"

"There's something strange in his movements. Each time Kawamura returns, thirty percent of his impact is dissipating before contact."

"Huh?" Momo shook his head, looking back out at the court. "I don't see any difference…"

Standing on the center line, Taka took the brief pause between serves to wipe the sweat off his forehead. Sure enough, this hadn't been a difficult match so far. Kinosuke was strong and he hit hard, but his returns lacked speed.

Still, whenever Kinosuke's racket swung down, there was a strange flicker of motion that Taka couldn't quite follow. At first, he'd thought it was simply his eyes playing tricks in the afternoon light; it was becoming steadily grayer and stormy. But now he was beginning to think that the motion was important.

He flexed his hand against the racket grip, staring down at his own arm. From the center of his wrist, through his elbow joint and all the way to the base of his shoulder, there was an unfamiliar tightening.

It seemed that the more of Kinosuke's shots he returned, the more his arm didn't want to move. Each bone and muscle seemed to grind beneath one another, straining against his movements.

He served again and Kinosuke crossed to the right corner with a rapid return.

Back at the bleachers, Eiji suddenly lunged off his bench and snatched two handfuls of the chain-link fence. "What, what, what, _what_?!"

Momo looked up at him, startled. "Eiji-senpai?"

Eiji let go of the fence with one hand to rub his eyes and then stared back the court without blinking. "That guy's racket… it moves back before it hits!"

"Huh?"

"And the ball…" Eiji waited a moment, watching Taka smash the yellow streak back over the net. "...before it gets to Taka-san, it pulls away!"

"What?" Momo stared hard at the whirlwind of moving rackets. "Echizen, can you see it?"

A few steps up the bleachers, Echizen nodded. "Kinda. For a second, it's like the ball disappears."

"Just what I thought…" They all looked at Inui.

"Senpai," Kaido's voice rumbled. "What is that technique?"

"Noda Kinosuke's extra movement." Inui's invisible gaze was trained on the tennis court. "By pulling the racket back less than a fourth of a second before striking the ball, he cuts the affectedness of Kawamura's power by thirty percent, and causes the ball's momentum to momentarily reverse before reaching the opposing racket. The force of the initial swing is absorbed by hitting where the ball ought to be, and then the ball's true impact has greater force."

"So…" Momo frowned hard. "He's making Taka-san use too much energy?"

"More than that; he's building toward something."

They turned their attention to the very end of the fence. Fuji stood completely stationary, arms folded and expression unreadable. Only the blue of his eyes flickered with movement as he watched the players on the court.

The referee called, "Forty – fifteen!"

Eiji cocked his head to the side. "Wha'dyou mean?"

"When the ball does hit, it's always in the same three places. Top of the frame, left center, right center; always in that order." Fuji glanced at Inui. "Is it possible to do that on purpose?"

"It would take incredible control to do so and still maintain the delayed-reaction effect of his return… but yes. If Noda-san is focused enough."

"But what for?" said Momo.

Katsuo turned to Kachiro. "Maybe it makes his arm go numb?"

Kachiro's eyes widened. "You mean… like Ibu Shinji's 'Sweet Spot'?"

"No… it's different." Echizen pushed the brim of his hat partway up for a clearer view of the court. "Kawamura-senpai isn't stopping or freezing up."

"Then what…?"

"Noda Kinosuke's mystery technique." Again, everyone turned and looked toward the new speaker.

This time, even Fuji pulled his gaze away from the court to look over his shoulder. "Yuuta? I thought you were still at school. You came to watch?"

"Sort of - Aniki…" Yuuta stepped up beside him, voice dropping tensely. "Mizuki-san watched the last match Hachiyama played. The guy at the hospital with the 'sports injury' Nee-chan told us about? Turns out he _was_ on the opposing team. He played singles three." Yuuta took a step closer to the fence and nodded toward the court. "…Against Noda Kinosuke."

"What?" Momo and Eiji stared at him, eyes widening. Kaido clenched his teeth fiercely.

Fuji's face tilted down just enough for his eyes to disappear behind his long bangs. "So. What kind of injury was it?"

Yuuta bit his lower lip. "…His right arm. Wrist, elbow, shoulder – all broken. The muscles, too ─ all torn up. His whole arm just… shattered."

"Wha…" Momo's voice died in a whisper. Horio gaped and Kachiro's lip started to quiver.

The fence wire bent slightly inside Eiji's shaking grip. "Taka-san…"

"That's why I came," said Yuuta. "Somehow… you guys have to make him _stop_ playing this match."

* * *

"Game! Kawamura. Five games to three. Seigaku lead. Change court!"

Taka started walking toward the umpire seat, switching his racket to his left hand for a moment. He opened and closed the fingers of his right hand and stretched his arm out to one side.

No matter how he moved it, the tightening wouldn't go away. With each return, his joints twisted and locked and jammed against each other. It was as if the inside of his arm had become snarled into a tight knot.

Although he could move the same way, it felt like his hardest hits weren't as powerful as usual. Yet he was uneasy about using the Hadoukyuu when his arm felt so strange.

He passed the high seat and crossed next to Kinosuke.

"Enough," The bleach-haired regular murmured so only they could hear. "Forfeit. Your determination is admirable, but make no mistake; you either give up this match…" He turned his head a fraction and said over his shoulder, "…or you give up tennis. Your choice."

Taka continued walking and made his way to the center line of the opposite court. Forfeit?

Oishi and Eiji hadn't forfeited, or even discussed it. Momo or Kaido would sooner drink a gallon of Inui's most recent concoction. Forfeit? Echizen didn't know the meaning of the word. At least for his own sake, Fuji had likely never thought the idea worth considering. And Tezuka…

Slowly, Taka switched his racket back to his right hand. Forfeit. As if he could do that.

Kinosuke watched him for a long moment, holding a tennis ball in one hand. At last, he heaved a sigh. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

The ball went up. Taka crouched, readying himself. Off toward the bleachers, he thought he could hear Momo's and Eiji's voices trying to call him. They sounded urgent, and moment later, they were joined by Oishi.

"Taka-san! Stop! This technique is - "

Focusing hard on Kinosuke's moving racket, Taka ignored them. He ignored his rigid arm. He'd already decided; they were going to nationals together and he was going to help them get there.

One point. Two points. His muscles rubbed and screeched, his bones trembling under the strain.

The ref called, "Thirty-Fifteen!"

The power of his return had weakened to almost nothing. His speed was barely matching Kinosuke's. He clenched his teeth and swung.

"Nnn – GRRREAT-O!"

"Taka-san!" Momo's voice again.

Kinosuke dove to get in front of the ball. It streaked back and Taka moved his arm by muscle memory only. Something in his shoulder seemed to suddenly curl inwards.

"Forty-fifteen!"

"Taka-san!"

"_Taka-san!"_

Oishi's and Eiji's voices overlapped each other; Eiji sounded positively distraught.

Kinosuke's serve came on impossibly fast. Taka threw his whole body into the return, but his arm only half-responded. As the ball hammered the top of his racket frame, his wrist bent backwards under it. Pain crackled up his arm like an electric shock.

He was almost out of time. The next return had to win, not matter what. But if he used that…

He swallowed hard.

Planting his feet far apart, he pulled himself toward the ground and held his racket out like lance. The air pulsed and swelled around him, pulling momentum into his racket; into his snarled arm.

"Taka-san, don't! Stop!"

"Kawamura-san!"

The ball rocketed into the racket gut, spiraling and grinding against the strings. He took a deep breath.

_"I had fun playing doubles yesterday. Let's do it again soon." _

_"Yeah, let's!"_

"Sorry, Fuji," he gritted. Pouring the last of his energy into the movement, he drove the racket forward. Inside the heaving blast of air and sound, he shouted at the top of his lungs, "HADOUKYUU!"

The very second the ball left the strings, something snapped.

On Kinosuke's half of the court, the ball's blast off the ground was accompanied by a bright flash and a crack of thunder overhead. The referee had to yell as he gave the call.

"Game set! Won by Kawamura. Six games to - "

Taka didn't hear anymore. The densest parts of the tangled mass inside his arm gave a final yank. Rather than unraveling, he felt everything fray, split and tear. He gasped but didn't manage to get much air. His racket clattered onto the cement and he clutched his arm in his left hand.

He heard himself cry out. He caught sight of a half dozen red-and-blue jerseys rushing toward him from off-court. He felt the first heavy raindrops fall cold on his sweaty neck.

Then he saw the ground rising up to meet him.

* * *

The hallway to the dorms was lined with paintings on one side, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the outdoor tennis courts on the other. The mid-morning sunlight was pouring in generously, creating white-yellow rugs on the hall carpet.

The only things casting a shadow in the window light were the pane-dividers and Tezuka. He leaned against the window second from the end, holding his shoulder with one hand. It was a familiar stance to him, except that it was the wrong shoulder.

His right elbow and wrist also shuddered with a strange tingling. Tezuka stared absently down at the sunlit carpet.

Without knowing why, he felt himself murmur, "…Kawamura."

* * *

_TBC..._


	7. The Color Red

_LOVE_ reading your comments, guys! Thank you! 3 (^_^)

* * *

Chapter 7

* * *

By the time the referee had announced a one-hour delay due to rain, the tennis court was already nearly empty. The spectators and students had run to the dry safety of the recreation building or the dining hall.

The Seigaku Regulars had been the first to disappear. Supporting an unsteady Kawamura between them, Oishi and the hissing one with the bandana had left in the direction of the school infirmary. The rest had followed shortly after, grabbing up their tennis equipment in a hurry.

Most of the Hachiyama team had gone to wait out the storm from inside their bus. Izumi had meant to go with them, but somehow, he'd only made it halfway.

He sat with his back against a huge oak tree trunk. The leaves above him bounced and fluttered under the raindrops, but beneath the thickest limbs, not a drop reached him. He stared out at the curtain of rain without really seeing it.

After a while, he caught the sound of footsteps through the long, wet grass. He glanced over his shoulder. It appeared that a dark raincloud was carrying an umbrella across the lawn.

As he came beneath the cover of the tree, Shun closed the umbrella, letting the loose water slide off. He stopped next to the tree trunk and looked down.

"Izumi-senpai," he said dismally. "You were here? I think Noda-senpai is going to commit _seppuku _with his racket. You're missing it."

Izumi laughed without any feeling. "Don't much care _what_ that jerk is doing… but I hope it works."

There was a pause. Izumi tried to think of something else clever to add, but nothing came to mind.

Shun rolled his eyes and sat down between the tree roots. "You're gloomy."

"Hah! I don't wanna hear that from _you_."

Shun stuck out his tongue and then turned to sulk at the misting rain. For a few minutes, they both sat in a silence punctuated by lazy thunder. When Izumi spoke, he was surprised to find his own voice so quiet.

"That guy… I've never seen anyone fight Kinosuke's technique like that. I mean…" He shook his head. "He must'a felt his arm breaking from the beginning of the match, right? And he still…"

The sound of a thousand water droplets on leaves filled another silence. Izumi pulled his knees close, digging his sneaker heals into the soft dirt.

"Hey, Shun. Do you think our tennis is…?" He trailed off. It felt like getting lost halfway through a subway transfer; having begun the thought, he had no idea where to go next.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shun's wet-looking bangs move in a slight nod.

"It's boring."

* * *

There was hollow thumping; tennis shoes hitting every third step light and fast. Fuji's breathing was controlled, but loud in his own ears. Every sound echoed off the high ceiling over the stairwell. He reached the top and pulled himself around the guardrail, walking fast down the hall.

_"Taka-san thought it would be better to switch the two of you."_

_"Switch?"_

It was too familiar. He didn't know why he hadn't noticed it before; the same heavy feeling as he'd felt during the district finals match against Fudomine.

_"You took it for me, didn't you?" _

The doctor's office appeared around the next corner. Fuji gave up walking and took the short hall at a run.

_"His whole arm just… shattered." _

The hall proved to be shorter than he'd estimated; he nearly ran headlong into the door before finding the handle and pushing it open. The doctor was just inside. Surprised, he turned around, revealing a rain-damp Oishi sitting in one of the office chairs.

The doctor said, "Fuji-kun?"

Fuji took a step inside. He glanced at Oishi, then at the doctor, but he couldn't seem to find the words for his question.

After a pause, the doctor smiled his understanding. "It's not broken."

"Not…" Fuji felt the word under his breath. Finally, he saw Taka sitting across from Oishi, his right arm resting on the desk between them. Taka gave him a small, guilty smile.

His whole arm was wrapped tightly in white gauze, making it about ten percent thicker than usual. The wrapping began at the heel of his palm and a red, plastic clip tied off the end near his shoulder.

"Well, not completely, anyway," the doctor amended. "It was very close. If Kawamura-kun didn't have such strong bones and muscle… well, it might have turned out quite differently."

He walked to the desk and gestured to a sheet of paper. On it was printed a grayscale, cutaway image of a human arm.

"There is torn muscle and many strained tendons around the shoulder joint, elbow, and wrist." He pointed to each spot in turn in the picture. "And this bone here, do you see? The thin one running along the forearm." He took a step back and let Oishi look. "There is likely a hairline fracture there, and then another just above the elbow. I don't believe either one is serious; if Kawamura-kun rests his arm and avoids any strenuous activities, it should heal fully within a few weeks."

"Thank you, doctor," said Oishi. "We're sorry for the trouble."

"Not at all. However, it would be best for you to take Kawamura-kun to the hospital for a full evaluation and a more permanent cast to ensure no further trauma. They may be able to prescribe him something for the pain; better than what I have here. I'll call Chuuou General and let them know you're coming."

"Thank you," Oishi said again. The doctor nodded and passed Fuji on his way out the door. Oishi watched him go and then stood up. "Taka-san, I'm going to go call your dad and ask if he can drive us to the hospital."

"Sorry, Oishi. Thanks."

Oishi smiled uncertainly toward Fuji as he crossed to the door. "I might miss the beginning of your match. Good luck, Fuji. We'll leave it to you."

Fuji nodded but said nothing. Oishi hesitated another  
moment. Then he opened the door, drumming his fingers awkwardly on the wood as it swung back. It closed behind him with muted click.

Taka looked up at his friend, trying in vain to find Fuji's eyes under the long bangs. "That was a close one, huh?" he tried lightly. "But we won! Just one more match and we'll finish first in the quarter finals!"

Taka found that he was fiddling with the fraying end of the gauze near his wrist. He stopped and reached up to rub the back of his head instead. "Eh-heh… Maybe it's too early to celebrate – but if it's you, singles two is as good as won, right? Just wish I could be there to see it!"

"Taka-san."

Taka looked up again, still unable to see Fuji's expression. "Yes?"

"The play order…" his voice was quiet, but even. "You had Oishi change it on purpose, didn't you? Because of Noda's Mystery Technique."

Taka stared. "You… You knew?"

"Mm. Somehow."

"I…" he grimaced. "I'm sorry. They came to the restaurant and I heard them talking about singles three. They were planning to – I… I thought it would be better if – well, it worked out in the end, though - right?"

"Worked out…" Fuji repeated under his breath. Suddenly, he raised his face to reveal his usual smile, eyes hidden behind contentedly squinted eyelids. "Yes. I'm so glad you're alright, Taka-san. Excuse me; I should go warm up before the rain stops."

He turned toward the door.

"You're not - " Taka faltered. " – not upset… are you?"

Fuji turned the smile over his shoulder quizzically. "Upset with you? No, certainly not."

Taka slid his un-injured arm off the desk and clutched the seat of his chair anxiously. "Fuji… you won't…" He dropped his eyes to the desk. "You won't do anything risky, right?"

He looked up again. Fuji still had one hand on the door, holding it partway open. He tilted his head slightly. "Risky?"

Taka nodded seriously. "I really don't want to see anyone else get hurt in this match."

Fuji continued to smile as if it had been painted there. "Please don't worry. Just leave the rest to me."

He turned back around and stepped out of the office. In the empty hall, the soft click of the latch had a tinny echo.

Outside the hallway windows, the storm clouds were already beginning to break. The sky through the cracks was turquoise and afternoon sunlight turned the trees and grass a vibrant green.

Fuji strode down the hall at the speed of wind, unable to see any of it. The only color that filled his vision was a deep, livid red.

* * *

"Oi, Mamushi!"

Kaido turned toward the Seigaku bleachers and glowered at Momo. "What."

Momo was kneeling on the wet ground, rifling through a tennis bag. "Where's Taka-san's racket? All I can find is the practice one."

"Like I know," Kaido grumbled, crossing to stand over the opposite end of the bag. "What for?"

Momo sighed, pulling the zipper down again. "I wanna check the tension. That many Hadoukyuu's in a row – he might need it adjusted. Ya' know, before he comes back to practice."

"Great idea, Momo!"

Momo looked up. Eiji trotted around the corner of the bottom bench, swinging his silver racket in his right hand and Taka's yellow one in his left.

"Eiji-senpai, you have it?"

"Heh, yeah... Taka-san asked me to put it back for him before they went to the doctor's…" his voice shrank a little and he quickly handed Momo the yellow racket.

Momo took it and smiled encouragingly. "Fuji-senpai said it wasn't broken, right? Taka-san'll be back doing his burning-serve in no time!"

"Mm, mm!" Eiji nodded with a bolstered grin. He planted himself on the lower bench with his feet up. He pulled his shoe-soles together and bounced his knees up and down like butterfly wings. "Sure is empty on our side, though. Tezuka, Taka-san, and Oishi all gone… and since Fuji's playing, there won't be many of us here to cheer him on, huh?"

"Well, we've got _one_ extra, anyway." Momo jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

Since the moment the rain had stopped, Yuuta had been sitting on the same middle step of the bleachers, staring out at the court as if willing players to appear on it.

He looked sideways at Momo, a vain popping out on his forehead. "What do you mean 'extra'?!"

"Speaking of…" Momo looked around at Kaido and then at Inui and the three first-years, all standing at the far corner of the fence. "Where'd that guy get off to?"

"Ah, Ochibi?" Eiji held onto his sneaker toes to lean sideways and nodded toward the other corner. "He's been over there."

"Wha – again?!" Momo stood up and walked through the entrance gate. He frowned wryly down at the freshman, who was slouching lazily against the seat back of the coach-bench. . "Oi. Echizen. Just because Oishi-fukubuchou is gone, doesn't mean you can just…"

Echizen's head lulled to one shoulder, a loud snore escaping him.

"Grk – ! Hey, are you asleep?! Oi!... Ryuzaki-sensei will find out, you know. Even _you_ can't handle getting scolded by her. _Echizen_." Momo grabbed the brim of his hat and tugged, but all he managed to get out of Echizen was small trail of drool.

"Nng… fine. Your funeral." Momo turned and started to walk back to the entrance gate. Then he stopped, did a quick bow toward the empty threshold and said loudly, "Tezuka-buchou! You're back already? What a great surprise! Echizen's on your bench, though."

He rolled his head around expectantly. Echizen continued to snooze on his own shoulder. Momo scowled.

"Fujiko-chan! All done warming up?"

Momo glanced back through the gate in time to see Eiji waving as Fuji walked past him.

"Mm," Fuji nodded, smiling affably. "I'm ready."

"Fuji-senpai, just in time!" Momo ran up next to the gate just as Fuji stepped through. "This guy is at it again; sitting on the coach bench." He turned halfway toward the napping Echizen and added loudly, "I can_ carry him out_, if you want."

When he looked back, Fuji had already started toward the court again.

"I don't mind." He added as he passed the coach-bench, "Do as you wish."

Echizen's eyes were open as if he hadn't been asleep in the first place. He waved a salute and drawled, "Will do-o."

Momo watched his friend's profile for a moment, then looked at Fuji's back. The latter had shed his Regulars jacket and he was scratching the fingers of one hand against the gut of his racket.

Feeling strangely apprehensive, Momo walked back through the entrance gate and latched it behind him.

* * *

"Singles two. Hachiyama Chuu; Shinta Yuiki vs. Seishun Gakuen; Fuji Shusuke. Best of one set match. Shinta to serve."

Over the court and surrounding spectators, the massive thunder clouds had been pushed back flat into the east by the aqua sky. Warm, pale sunlight set the fence enclosure and the metal bleachers aglow.

Students and members of the Hachiyama tennis club chanted, "Hachiyama go, go! Hachiyama _saikyou_!"

From the Seishun side, there were shouts of, "Seigaku, fight-o!" and "Do your best, Fuji-senpai!"

All of it sounded like muted white-noise in Fuji's ears. He stood at the net, facing the sharp-faced captain of Hachiyama. Shinta stood a full head taller than Fuji, his slender limbs made of nothing but muscle. As he stepped forward, his long, blue-black hair breezed over his shoulders. He looked Fuji over with an icy gaze.

They took hands over the net, but scarcely touched.

"Fuji Shusuke." He shredded the name to pieces with his sharp voice. "I've looked forward to this match."

"What an honor." Fuji turned and began striding toward mid-court.

"My regards to Kawamura-san."

Fuji stopped. Sliding one foot along the centerline, he turned halfway back around, holding his racket gently between his hands. Shinta's eyes narrowed with just the hint of a smile around his thin mouth.

"Seigaku's famous prodigy, Fuji Shusuke. You consider yourself inscrutable, mysterious. Unpredictable." He backed slowly away from the net. "But all your techniques, strengths, and weaknesses… they are like clear glass to me."

"Is that so?" Fuji turned fully around, the wind tossing his hair across the side of his face. Crouching down, he slid one hand across the racket frame, laying his fingertips one the top strings. "Shall I show you a bit more then?"

The referee called, "Start!"

Shinta rolled a tennis ball against the racket gut. Then in a flash, his arm went up. The ball flew high and his shoes lifted off the ground. Fuji recognized the form from the previous day, at the park.

_"There it is! Shinta-buchou's Shrapnel Serve!"_

The ball came at him like comet entering the atmosphere, a blue vapor trailing after it. Fuji leaned sideways, bracing a foot behind him, and pulled his racket in to meet the serve.

Rather than sinking into the gut, the ball seemed to change its mind at the moment of contact. It turned a half circle around the strings and, before Fuji could react, it spiraled off the racket and shot full into his face.

_"Fuji-senpai!"_

The trio of young voices cut out of Fuji's hearing as he stumbled to the side and fell. The side of his face was numb with cold. Digging the racket's frame against the cement, he just barely managed to stay up on one knee. The ball dropped to the ground in front of him, followed by three small drops of blood.

"Love-fifteen!"

Sounds of distress rippled through the Seigaku benches, while the Hachiyama chant picked up from the other side. Fuji pulled himself up, running a thumb along his bottom lip. He glanced down at the blood on his hand, then up at Shinta. The latter now had a more pronounced smirk.

"This is pleasing to you?" Fuji turned his palm toward Shinta, letting the trail of red pool into it. "You have… _reminded_ me who is stronger now?"

Shinta's smirk froze and broke. "…Have we met before?"

"Yesterday… you had the pleasure of meeting someone close to me." Fuji sucked the blood from his lower lip in and spat on the ground next to him. He beamed a glacial smile at Shinta. "How is your hand?"

Shinta blinked once, raising his racket hand to look down at the dark bruise. His sharp eyes flicked back up at Fuji. A smile crossed his face. "Very good."

Taking out another ball, he slid it down the racket gut and tossed it high. There were still shouts of anxious encouragement coming from the Seigaku benches, but Fuji still couldn't quite hear them.

He couldn't see their blue-and-white jerseys or glowing silver of the bleachers. He couldn't make out any turquoise in the sky, the gray cement on the court, Shinta's black and orange uniform, or the yellow of the tennis ball falling through the air.

There remained only one color in existence anymore. The ball shot toward him, scorching the air around it with a red glow.

Red like the bruise around Oishi's eye; like the blood seeping up from beneath Eiji's bandages.

_"I don't think they wanted to win. They just wanted us to lose."_

Red like the stain on Yuuta's shirt.

_"…Don't tell my brother about this, okay?"_

Red like the plastic clip holding Taka's damaged arm together.

_"If I could help us get one match closer to the nationals, it's worth it."_

One foot forward, the other pulled far back, Fuji swept his racket high out behind him. He stretched his free hand low to the ground, turning his gaze up to the ball that screamed toward him.

"My turn," he murmured. "_You_ will lose."

Pushing all his weight onto his back foot, he launched off the ground, swung around and delivered a violent blow to the spiraling ball. With a hard backspin, it shot over the net, rebounded off the ground by Shinta's feet and rocketed to the back fence.

Fuji dropped out of his swing onto one knee, the racket raised next to his head, and his right wrist grasped in his left hand.

Shinta turned from staring at the back fence and looked down at him.

"Red Counter," Fuji said, slowly rising to his feet again. "Twist-Spin Return."

"Fifteen – all!"

Back at the bleachers, Yuuta stood with his face centimeters from the fence.

"Aniki…" He watched as his brother stood up and felt both eyes widening. "Why that move…?"

Just then, he felt the tall, slightly ominous presence of a bespectacled Seigaku Regular standing behind him.

"It would be difficult to tell, if one had not used the technique before," Inui said without looking at him. "But it is not quite the same, is it?"

Yuuta glanced up at him and shook his head. "No – the form is the same, but the force is different. Still…"

Inui looked down. "Still?"

Yuuta stared hard at the field, watching Fuji glide back to the center. "It's the same problem I had, isn't it? If you don't know it perfectly – if you don't prepare…"He laced his fingers through the chain-link fence, jaw tightening. "That move… is dangerous."

* * *

_TBC..._

* * *

Glossary:

_seppuku_ - Samurai ritual suicide by disembowelment with one's own sword.

_Ochibi_ and _Fujiko-chan_ - Eiji's nicknames for Echizen and Fuji

_saikyou_ - strongest


	8. Wave Return

Chapter 8

* * *

"Game! Fuji. One game to love."

Releasing his own wrist again, Fuji stood and walked back to his starting position. He had the sensation that someone had taken a baseball bat to his right shoulder, but he ignored it. He must have retrieved a ball at some point because one was now bouncing between his hand and the ground.

"Is that all you mean by 'a bit more'?" Shinta's voice cut in.

Again, Fuji made no response. Catching the ball one last time, he turned to face the net and jumped. Following the _smack!_ of Fuji's racket, Shinta moved easily to the back corner and lobbed the ball back.

Raising his free hand for balance, Fuji touched the top frame of his racket to the cement and began to drag it around in a half-circle.

As the ball came out of its arc, he counted to three in his head and snapped the racket from the ground to the ball. It flew high over the court and touched neatly down behind Shinta.

"Red Counter," said Fuji, laying his racket flat against his palm. "Tsuki Otoshi."

"Fifteen-love."

Behind the fence, Yuuta had to scoot to the side as Eiji pushed in front of him from under Inui's elbow.

"He-eh?!" Eiji's jaw dropped as he clutched the fence.

Momo came up beside him. "Was that what it looked like?"

They looked at each other and said in unison, "Moon Volley?!"

"Not quite." All three turned to look at Inui. He was holding a very thin folder which appeared to contain only one sheet of paper. "Though it is similar, it is neither as precise, nor as fast as the real Moon Volley. The accuracy would be inconsistent at best."

Like a visual aid, out on the court, Fuji caught Shinta's return with the same maneuver, but this time the ball arced to high and little to the left.

The referee called, "Out! Fifteen-all!"

"But why?" Eiji yanked the fencing back and forth. "Why is Fuji using Oishi's move instead of his own?"

The rattling of Fuji's racket reached them again and the ball flew up, closer in-court. Shinta ran backwards and crouched low. As the ball came down, he sliced it hard across and Fuji had to leap to catch it. However, the swing proved too shallow, and there was soft smack of the ball hitting the net weave.

"Fifteen-thirty."

Fuji didn't seem to notice or care. He'd already returned to the centerline and was bouncing his next ball in front of him. His next serve flew past Shinta altogether, tying them again at thirty. He put less force into his following serve and Shinta came at the ball with a violent drive-volley. Fuji returned it smoothly and dropped his racket frame again, scraping it across the ground.

"Forty-thirty!"

In the sea of red haze, Fuji had once again missed the point at which his drop landed. He pulled another ball from his pocket and bounced it once.

Across the net, Shinta was gripping his racket harder than before, but his breathing was still even and his eyes were like twin _wakizashi_. He moved quickly on his long legs and missed the next volley by a mere hairsbreadth.

"Game! Fuji. Two games to love."

"I see your intentions, Fuji." Shinta rolled a tennis ball up and down his racket strings as if petting a cat. "So very noble. It's a shame though; I'd hoped to see some of your _real_ ability before the end."

The ball went up and Shinta followed, holding the familiar form. There was a sound like a whip cracking and Fuji leapt into the air over the center.

"Red Counter," He ground out. Wrapping his arm across his middle, he threw the racket out behind him. "Haku Beam!"

The ball struck, twisted reluctantly against the gut, and then rebounded into the open right half of Shinta's side.

Fuji's feet hit the ground with a numbing impact and his knees buckled under him. He barely caught himself on his left hand and skinned the palm of it on the cement.

"Fifteen-love."

"Haku… Beam." Momo looked down at Eiji.

"I don't get it!" Eiji shook his head from side to side. "Shouldn't he stick to moves he's used to?"

Next to them, Yuuta's gaze hardened. "Idiot…"

"Thirty-love!"

Again, Fuji tumbled from midair and landed hard on his feet. An earthquake went up his legs and he crashed onto his side. A cloud of white dust went up around him. He pulled himself up again quickly, brushing the dust off his sleeve.

Without warning, Shinta's next serve suddenly shot over the net and Fuji scarcely managed to raise his racket in time. Once again, the ball wrenched around in a semi-circle and fired off the strings.

There came another cold blow to Fuji's right cheek and he stumbled sideways onto one knee. Blood from his already split lip spattered his shirtfront. A stained tennis ball rolled out of the court.

"Th… Thirty-fifteen."

"Damn it!" Momo kicked the fence pole, making the chain links rattle.

Kachiro said tearily, "Fuji-senpai…"

"But he's okay!" said Katsuo. "See? It's like he doesn't even notice!"

Fuji had indeed already taken up position again, holding his racket grip firmly. He swiped the back of his hand impatiently across his chin and wiped a red smear onto his white shorts.

Shinta's thin mouth curved in a smirk. "Fuji. You take no notice of your own grievances?"

Fuji said nothing, twirling the racket readily between his hands.

Shinta pulled a ball from his pocket, sliding it lightly on the racket strings. "Did I not say that you are clear as glass to me? Your techniques… your strengths…" His sharp eyes flicked past Fuji's shoulder and his smile widened. "… and your _weaknesses_."

Shinta flew up with the ball and, a moment too late, Fuji realized that he had twisted in the air. The ball hurtled straight past them and out of sight. Fuji whirled around in time to hear a shrill, metallic clang on the Seigaku side of the fence.

On the other side, Eiji made a startled noise. He and Yuuta let go of the bowing fence, leaping back quickly. Yuuta lost his footing and stumbled into Inui. Wide-eyed, Eiji stared at the ball. It was now lodged inside one of the wire links, pushed nearly all the way through.

"Out! Forty-fifteen!"

Fuji's own bangs stung his face as he snapped back to Shinta. "You…"

Shinta was already in the air again. The racket and ball blurred together and Fuji raced to the net. He swung his racket, arm, and entire body into one strike, eyes never leaving Shinta's face. The ball screamed against the strings, then careened back.

Shinta jerked his head to one side as the ball shot narrowly past his ear, sending strands of his hair flying up. Behind him, the ball barely skimmed the ground before colliding with the back fence.

"Game! Fuji. Three games to love. Change court!"

"As I said…" Shinta turned, meeting Fuji's icy glare with an equally cold smirk. "Predictable."

A stunned silence had fallen over the Seigaku side and no one seemed keen to break it. Yuuta helped Inui pick up the notebook and scattered papers. Then, turning back to the fence, he carefully grasped the lodged tennis ball with his fingertips and pulled it free. Holding it loosely in his hand, he glanced between Eiji and Momo.

They both stared tensely back. Still, no one spoke.

Across from the umpire seat, Shinta and Fuji strode past each other. A moment before turning toward the court again, Shinta said softly, "There is one thing that puzzles me."

They each walked toward the center of the net on their new sides. Fuji said, "And that is?"

"Fuji Shusuke." Again, his voice tore the name to ribbons. "Though you are no match for me, you are clearly the strongest of those who have played so far. Tell me… why this _game_?"

Fuji held his gaze without blinking. "Game, you say."

"Yes." Shinta stepped up to the net. "With all your technique and skill, why do you waste time… feebly imitating the weaker ones?"

The racket twitched in Fuji's hand and he gripped it hard. The red was beginning to burn his eyes, making him dizzy. He let his eyelids fall shut. For just a moment, Shinta, the court, and the furnace of red disappeared.

In the quiet, he could almost picture it again; that mysterious, radiant blue color. Eiji's and Oishi's earnest enthusiasm, Inui's support, Kaido's stubborn determination, Momo's heart, Echizen's courage, Taka's loyal resolve, and Tezuka's boundlessly passionate tenacity.

Fuji inhaled deeply, holding onto the feeling as long as he could.

Time and again, he wondered; what exactly was he for Seigaku? Talent, perhaps. What a gray, tepid thing.

He opened his eyes and the world was still awash in seething, enflamed red. He met Shinta's gaze again.

"Those 'weaker ones' have within them something that you and I can never understand." Fuji fingered the frame of his racket slowly. "And that's why these 'feeble imitations'… are a far greater honor than you deserve."

Shinta's eyes flashed. "Why, you…"

"Still." Fuji reached into his pocket and pulled out a tennis ball. "I will not hold back in using this last imitation… to destroy you."

He tossed the ball and served. Shinta took one long stride and returned it. Again it glanced off Fuji's racket and bounded back.

He waited for his opening and found it; dipping the racket low, he lobbed the ball high toward the back. He slid one foot behind him and crouched toward the ground. His scraped left hand stretched forward and he pulled the racket back, holding it out to one side like a lance. Then he concentrated.

As Shinta ran back to catch the ball, Fuji felt the air around him pull close as he flexed his muscles in and then out. He closed his eyes again. The air pulsed, contracted, and pulsed again as he pooled the momentum into his right arm.

Shinta gave a backhand slice to the ball and it came tearing back. The air pulsed faster and faster, as if an aircraft were lifting off.

Fuji took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

"Red Counter Final," he said in harsh whisper. "Hadou Gaeshi."

The blurry sphere squealed and spiraled into the strings and Fuji felt the weight of it crushing his elbow. He counted again, clenching his teeth until his whole jaw shook. Just as he was feeling his grip weaken on the racket, he lunged forward and snapped his arm straight.

The ball blasted off and plunged into the waiting gut of Shinta's racket.

"Ah -!" Shinta ground his back foot into the ground, straining his arm against the heavy ball. The seconds ticked off. Then suddenly, the ball's screeching cut off and there was a loud, metallic clatter.

Shinta stared down at his empty right hand, then at the racket on the ground behind him. A long silence filled the entire court.

Uncertainly, the ref called, "Fi… fifteen-love."

* * *

There was a wide, cushioned window-seat in Tezuka's room, and the window offered a sweeping view of the facility's courtyard. Over the past few days, sitting here had had a gentle, calming effect on him.

But not today.

He sat with his back against the seat-frame, elbows resting on his bent knees. He held his cell phone loosely in one hand.

He didn't know how long he'd sat like this; staring at the phone's blank screen, waiting for it to light up and vibrate with the caller ID flashing Oishi's name. For the tenth time, he calculated the time difference in his head, reminding himself that the match mightn't have ended yet.

The uneasiness from that morning had grown quickly in intensity throughout the afternoon. Now that the daylight was turning fully orange, the feeling had shifted to an inconsolable anxiety.

Tezuka's grip tightened on the phone. He didn't want to say it aloud, but nearly an hour ago, the anxious feeling had transferred itself from Taka to another person.

He closed his eyes.

More than ever, Tezuka wished fervently he was in Tokyo today.

* * *

Fuji's second shot had already flashed over the net and knocked Shinta's racket to the ground, before Momo found his voice.

Breaking the speechless silence over the Seigaku benches, he muttered, "No way. Even if it's Fuji-senpai, he can't…" He looked behind him at Inui. "I mean – can he?"

Inui pushed his glasses up his nose thoughtfully, but his deep voice held a hint of tension. "Theoretically, the principle of the 'wave shot' is possible with any skilled player, if not entirely compatible."

From where he stood, still clutching the fence, Eiji said anxiously, "What does that mean, Inui?"

"Fuji's rare skill and ability to imitate techniques make the basic movement and results of the Hadoukyuu almost identical. However the size differential and lack of preparation may have dire consequences."

Yuuta turned around abruptly, feeling his sweaty fingers sliding on the wire fencing. "…Consequences?"

Out on the court, the air around Fuji was pulsating again. It was like watching a stone falling into a pond on rewind; the ripples began wide and then pulled in tight, throbbing faster and faster. When the racket came down, there was a crack like a tree limb breaking and once again, Shinta's racket clattered to the ground behind him.

"Thirty-love!"

"It is impossible to say with complete accuracy," said Inui. "But assuming Fuji's size and strength to be inferior to Kawamura's by roughly thirty-eight percent, the effect of the Hadoukyuu ought to be reduced by the same amount."

Momo said, "Ought to?"

"Yes… that is why the pull and release of building momentum is faster and closer together with Fuji's stance than what we are used to seeing."

They watched in silence for another moment. The ball was arching high over the court and Fuji was crouched low at the center again, the space around him rippling.

"It's true!" Kachiro said suddenly. "When Kawamura-senpai does it, the air moves slower."

"Usually it doesn't make me so dizzy to watch," Horio added.

"Despite that," Inui went on. "The Hadoukyuu is producing the same results against Shinta-san as Kawamura achieved in his previous match. In order to compensate for the lack of strength behind the stroke, it would seem that Fuji is utilizing momentum pulled from his entire body, as his arm alone is unable to withstand the strain."

"Forty-love!"

"Inui-san…" Yuuta finally let go of the fence and turned. His now empty hands turned to sweaty fists at his sides. "What will happen… if he keeps using that shot?"

By way of response, Inui pushed his glasses hard into the bridge of his nose.

In the silence, Eiji let out a distressed sound, pushing on the fence as if trying to step through. "Nn… _Fuji…!"_

Momo gritted his teeth.

"Tezuka-buchou… Oishi-fukubuchou; both gone," he said under his breath. "Echizen… you'd better do _something_."

* * *

_TBC..._

* * *

Glossary:

_Tsuki Otoshi_ - Combination of "Moon Volley" and "Higuma Otoshi" (lit; "Moon Drop")

_Haku Beam_ - Combination of "Kikumaru Beam" and "Hakugei" (lit; "White Beam")

Hadou Gaeshi - Combination of "Hadoukyuu" and "Tsubame Gaeshi" (lit; "Wave Return")


	9. For Seigaku

Chapter 9

* * *

"Game! Fuji. Five games to love! Two minute break."

Breathing had become like inhaling fire and exhaling ice. Fuji's arm hung as a loose chain at his side, his racket swaying heavily like an anchor at the end of it. Turning from the net, he realized his legs were going numb from the knees down.

He didn't care; the world blazed on before his eyes. He wasn't even sure of the score, but it didn't matter so much. He would continue until the end, however long that took.

Fuji walked as steadily as he could to the coach-bench and sat down, throwing a towel around his neck. He couldn't think of anything else to do, so he stared down between his shoes, elbows on knees.

After a few moments, a water bottle appeared in his line of vision. He'd forgotten that Echizen was on the bench. He took the bottle mechanically.

Fuji thought that some people were calling to him from the fence line. They sounded worried. He didn't look up.

"Hey."

Fuji popped the bottle cap and took a long drink. The water was a bit copper-flavored from his still-bleeding lip.

"Hey. Fuji-senpai."

"What is it," Fuji said vacantly.

"…It's hot." Echizen pulled his elbows back onto the seat rest. "If it's okay, could you hurry up and win already?"

Fuji splashed some water onto his scraped palm. "I intend to."

"Aren't you dragging it out on purpose?"

"Echizen…" Fuji turned to him with a smile as serene as the arctic tundra. "…Perhaps you would be more comfortable in the bleachers after all."

"Don'wanna!"

Echizen tossed his head back and Fuji looked away. "Have it your way, then."

Capping the water-bottle, he pulled the towel off and dropped them both on the bench between them. He gripped his racket again with effort and stood up. Across the court, Shinta was already starting toward the net.

Fuji narrowed his eyes, causing the red haze to thicken before him. He took a step forward.

"'Playing angry…"

Fuji stopped.

Behind him, Echizen's careless voice carried idly on, "… even if you win, it's notta' real victory. You win the game… but you lose everything else.'"

The fingers of Fuji's free hand twitched inward. With only a strand or two of hair to indicate movement, he turned his face ever-so-slightly toward his shoulder.

"…Well," Echizen amended. "Kawamura-senpai said something like that. I didn't really get it, but…" he stuck a fist in the air lazily. "Well, do your best anyway, Fuji-senpai. Guess I'm going after all… somewhere in the shade is better."

He stood up from the bench, stuck his hands in his pockets, and meandered toward the entrance gate without looking back.

"Players please reenter the court."

The referee's voice made Fuji's feet respond on their own; he found himself stepping up to the centerline again. Shinta stood across from him, holding his racket in a strong grip. Fuji's racket still felt heavy and strangely thick in his swollen hand.

The ref announced the current score and mentioned who was in the lead, but Fuji missed it altogether. He blinked his dry eyes and stared blankly down at the net. That wasn't right, was it? He should at least know the score. After all, his goal was victory for Seigaku.

Wasn't it?

Suddenly there was a loud crack. Shinta fired another Shrapnel Serve toward him, and Fuji pulled himself to move only enough to dodge it.

"Love-fifteen!"

Fuji shook himself, trying to make his eyes focus. The red he'd grown used to had become dull and murky before him.

As the next serve spiraled across the net, he moved into position on instinct alone. Raising his racket out beside him, he pulled at his body numbly for momentum. The ball sank into the strings and the deadened muscles in his arm tightened painfully.

He heaved the racket forward and the ball blasted over net. Grinding his teeth together, Shinta held on tightly and forced the shot back. There was a loud smack and the net flapped back and forth.

"Fifteen-all!"

"Fuji-senpai!"

Panting, Fuji lifted his head slightly. Sweat dripped off the end of his nose. He'd heard Momo shout just then.

"C'mon, Fuji! Please stop!" Eiji's fretful voice, this time. Had they been calling to him all along?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Oishi had returned and taken Echizen's place on the coach-bench. He was clutching the edge of it, as if to keep himself from leaping up.

Fuji turned away. In the back of his mind, Taka's voice echoed softly.

_ "Fuji… you won't do anything risky, right?" _

Shinta slid the next ball down his racket strings and tossed it high. As the serve corkscrewed through the air, Fuji spread his feet again and pulled at his muscles for strength. He found none. The air remained still around him and the racket felt awkward in his grip. Another drop of sweat slipped down his jaw line.

_"I really don't want to see anyone else get hurt in this match."_

A vibration up the shaft told him the ball had found its mark. Soon it would blast into his face if he didn't move. With no momentum gathered in his racket, Fuji pushed off both feet and hurled his whole body into drive swing.

The ball swooped past Shinta, landing scarcely a centimeter from the boundary line. Fuji fell flat on the ground, shielding only his face with his left arm.

"Thirty-fifteen!"

"What's wrong, Fuji?" Shinta's sharp voice was confident as ever. "I had thought you were going to 'destroy' me… not yourself."

Fuji took a deep breath. A cloud of cement dust stung his throat and he coughed twice. Pushing up on his left arm, he pulled back onto his hands and knees.

Suddenly, from the Seigaku side, another voice shouted, "Aniki, look out!"

Shinta was in the air again, his racket blurring in motion. A tennis ball struck the ground between Fuji's hands, screeched around in a half-circle, and shot back up. There was a blow like a hammer striking his abdomen and Fuji felt the air blast out of his lungs.

"Fuji…!" Oishi's voice was strained with the effort of staying seated.

The referee called, "Thirty… all."

Shinta was smirking again. "Perhaps you've been called a prodigy, but the way you're playing now… making you lose is pitifully easy."

"The way I'm… playing now…" Fuji gasped, trying to force oxygen back into his chest. His racket scratched against the cement under his numb hand. "That's right… this is… nothing like that."

_"We should play doubles again soon!" _

The warm shade and the smell of wisteria. Standing on a quiet court, surrounded by friends.

_"Just for fun, ya' know?"_

Fuji's empty left hand tightened with a fistful of sweat. He gave a small scoff. "…'Playing angry'… is it?"

_"… even if you win, it's notta' real victory."_

He let his burning eyes close. Slowly, he pulled one knee forward and pressed the sole of his shoe to the cement. He loosened his hold on the racket grip until it lay gently in his hand. The other foot came up and he rose from the ground steadily.

_"You win the game… but you lose everything else." _

It took effort, but he pulled in a long, steady breath. The breeze combed lightly through his damp hair and he exhaled.

What was he for Seigaku? It didn't matter.

Right now, in this match, he was their chance for victory. That was what his team fought for. Whether Fuji fully understood their feelings or not, he could still fight alongside them. For him, that alone was real tennis. He didn't wish to lose that.

Not ever.

He opened his eyes. The red world before him had turned to soft, warm colors once more. It wasn't quite that perfect, radiant blue, but it was close enough.

Across the net, Shinta's sharp eyes narrowed. "Still? Enough, Fuji. You're already at your limit."

Fuji set one foot behind the other, resting the racket evenly between both hands. "What you have seen until now… has not been me. So _this_ is not my limit."

He took a step back from the net. Shinta's icy stare followed him.

"Then what is?"

In one smooth motion, Fuji flipped the racket to his left hand, spun it around his wrist, and caught the grip in his right again. He twirled the racket upward, letting it come to rest with the frame just under his smile-squinted eyes.

"Who knows?"

Behind the fence, the three first-years bounced on their heels in agitation.

"He got back up!" Katsuo said eagerly. "He can still play!"

"Of course he can," Horio replied smugly, sticking his fists on his hips. "That's our Fuji-senpai, after all!"

"Aniki," Yuuta murmured, eyes glued to the court.

Momo gave him a sidelong glance, then looked over his shoulder. "Hey, Echizen. During the break, what did Fuji-sen – wha – Oi!"

Echizen had all but disappeared around the corner, his racket propped casually on one shoulder. He leaned back on one foot to look at Momo through sleepy eyes. "Something wrong?"

"Taking off at a time like this?!" Momo gave an exasperated sigh. "At least say you're gonna go warm up."

"Nn…" Echizen poked a finger toward the school park. "Gonna take a nap."

"Gah!" Momo smacked a hand to his forehead. "So cold!"

Echizen shrugged and started walking again. "No point in hanging around, is there?"

"No point?"

"Nope. Looks like I was worried for nothing." Echizen's indifferent voice held just a hint of a smirk. "I won't be playing after all."

* * *

After seeing the form so many times, returning Shinta's serve proved to be quite simple. Were it not for the pain still scorching through Fuji's right arm, he guessed that he could have used the powerful spin for a unique new return.

The ball streaked back and forth across the net, rarely touching the ground. Each shot grew in speed, but Fuji was beginning to see them in slow motion. As the ball glanced off his racket and vaulted up to meet Shinta's, he could feel it twirling slightly. Sure enough, before sending it back, Shinta's strings had added a neat topspin.

Crossing one foot over the other, Fuji dipped his racket frame to the ground and then swept it cleanly through the spinning ball. In response, the ball glided across the net and touched the ground. Shinta stood poised, waiting for a rebound that wouldn't come.

The ball skittered along the ground and zipped quietly out of the court.

"Forty-thirty!"

From behind the fence, the freshman trio shouted in unison, "There it is! Tsubame Gaeshi!"

Slowly, Fuji lowered his racket. Shinta was eyeing him frigidly. All the running back and forth had finally brought out a film of perspiration on the captain's forehead.

He pulled out another tennis ball, slid it quickly down racket gut, and leapt with it into the air. Fuji braced himself for a counter, but then stopped. Shinta was twisting mid-jump again, his gaze aimed over Fuji's shoulder toward the coach-bench.

Dashing four long steps to the side, Fuji skidded to a halt outside the line and met the serve with hard right curve. With his attention focused on stopping the ball's trajectory, he didn't have time to aim his return. It was no surprise then, when the ball bounced a full meter past the side-line.

"Out! Forty-all. Match point!"

Fuji glanced over his shoulder at the coach-bench. Oishi stared back, realization making his eyes wide. Behind the fence, Momo was shouting something about 'lousy cheaters' and 'tennis-prison'.

Fuji turned back to face Shinta, racket held tightly at his side. "That shot would have lost you the match. Do you not care about that?"

Shinta's dark bangs swept low across his face. "It's as I told that arrogant freshman of yours. Victory has nothing to do with it. In the end, proof of superior strength is all that matters."

As another tennis ball appeared from Shinta's pocket and began sliding up and down his racket strings, Fuji gave a slight nod.

"I see. Since the beginning, this game of yours and mine… it truly is 'rotten tennis', isn't it?" He stepped back to the centerline. "Let's end it."

"Gladly." Shinta tossed high and leapt into the air.

It was like a sign, the way the wind began to build, changing direction across the court. The strong updraft blew Fuji's hair back, jostling his racket frame a little.

With an easy backhand slice, he sent Shinta's serve over the net, and then stepped deep to the left corner. As he'd guessed, Shinta's return hurtled straight toward him. As the next gust of wind began to build, Fuji drew his racket up like a long paint-brush.

"Triple Counter."

The ball flew toward Shinta. The breeze of it sent his side bangs fluttering as it arched upwards and out of sight. The sharp eyes widened and he turned around in time to see the ball touch down at the baseline. Carried by the updraft, it sailed straight past him again and cleared the net from high above.

With a light tapping sound, the ball came to rest in Fuji's waiting hand. He finished softly, "…Hakugei."

"Game set! Won by Fuji. Six games to love!"

The referee's voice was all but drowned out by the cheering that went up from the Seigaku side, both club-members and student-spectators.

Shinta was glaring scalpels and switchblades at Fuji as they stepped up to the net to shake hands. Again, they barely touched.

"This… is not over, Fuji Shusuke"

Fuji let go. "It is for me."

Turning his back on the Hachiyama captain, Fuji slid the returned tennis ball into his pocket and walked off the court.

* * *

"So it wasn't serious, then?"

"Not too bad." Oishi switched the cell phone to his other ear, swiping the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead. "The doctor told us it would heal in a few weeks. Taka-san says he's going to be there for our match with Rokkaku no matter what."

"He should rest first."

Oishi smiled and nodded, even though Tezuka couldn't see. "He's still at the hospital. We're going to walk over there soon. Once he's discharged, we'll all go to Kawamurazushi for the victory party, and then his dad says he has to sleep."

"Good."

There was a pause for several moments. Oishi's eyes strayed toward the bleachers. Momo was getting the first-years riled up with a loud Seigaku cheer that seemed to be causing Kaido great irritation. Eiji was still hugging Echizen's head.

"Oishi…"

"Ah – yes! What is it?"

There was another short pause that felt strangely weighted.

"This is from nowhere, I know, but…"

Oishi pressed the phone closer. "Yes?"

"…About Fuji…is everything alright?"

Slowly, Oishi moved his gaze down the crowd of exuberant players until it reached end of the bench. Fuji sat with his hands resting on one crossed knee, his racket lying on the bench next to him. Blood had dried onto his bruised cheek and there was a layer of sweat-glued cement dust all over him.

His face was turned toward the celebrating regulars next to him, a warmly familiar smile squinting his eyes shut.

"Mm." Oishi gave another unseen nod. "Before – for a minute, I thought…." Then he shook his head. "But he's fine now, I think."

"I see."

It took knowing Tezuka since freshman year to catch the note of relief in his voice. Oishi felt himself smile again.

"Hey, Tezuka…"

"What is it?"

He gripped the phone hard. "We won. It's great, isn't it? Seigaku's victory."

"Yes. It's the most important thing. 'Well done'… please tell everyone that."

"I will."

* * *

_TBC..._

* * *

Glossary:

Tsubame Gaeshi - One of Fuji's counters, lit; 'Swallow Return'

Hakugei - One of Fuji's counters, lit; "White Whale"


	10. Friends

I don't think the email alert went out for the previous chapter (Chapter 9: For Seigaku); sorry about that! Not sure what happened.

Anyway, thank you so much for the support, you guys! It's so fun reading the comments and reviews! ^_^ Here's the last chapter!

* * *

Chapter 10

* * *

Located as it was so near the heart of Tokyo, Chuuou General Hospital was perpetually crowded. On a Friday afternoon, there was no staff member without an important place to be. Therefore no one seemed to take notice of the two unwelcome middle-school students striding purposefully down the C-Ward hallway.

Kinosuke pulled at his tennis bag's strap to avoid knocking over an orderly as they rounded the corner.

"Shinta… I thought Izumi and Shun were fools for staying behind, but… this might not be a good idea after all. Not today. There are a lot of people around - "

"So no one will notice." Shinta's piercing eyes were locked ahead of them. "We won't wait. He'll be gone by tomorrow."

Kinosuke watched his profile uneasily. "Post-match intimidation… we've always done that to prove a point; to show our enemies who among us is stronger."

"So what?"

Kinosuke stopped, bringing Shinta to a halt with a hand on his elbow. "So when did this become about revenge?"

Shinta pulled his arm away. "You forget yourself, Noda. You are _vice_-captain, nothing more." He speared Kinosuke's eyes with his own. "Go back and join Izumi and Murasaki if you wish. Only remember that any blame will be borne by Hachiyama's _weakest_ links."

Kinosuke held his gaze as long as he could. Soon though, he felt his eyes dropping to the floor.

"Can I help you boys find something?" A young nurse in a white dress and a tired-looking ponytail stood next to them, a clipboard under her arm.

Kinosuke let go of the breath he'd been holding and turned to her. "Yes, we're looking for Kawamura Takashi."

"Oh, his room is at the end of the hall, just around the right corner." She smiled at them. "He's being discharged soon, but you're welcome to go wait with him, if you like."

"Thank you." Kinosuke gave a slight head-bow. Behind him, Shinta had already started up the hall.

Behind them, the nurse added pleasantly, "Kawamura-san certainly has a _lot_ of friends!"

"A lot of…" Kinosuke looked back over his shoulder, but she was already making her way back down the crowded hall.

Within a few more steps, he and Shinta turned the corner and then came to a sudden stop.

A boy wearing a Seigaku jersey and a white baseball hat was leaning against the doorframe of Kawamura's room. One foot was propped against the frame behind him and his arms were crossed loosely in front of him.

He turned a somewhat juvenile smile on Kinosuke. "Looking for someone? Onii-san."

"What the…?"

"Echizen-kun." Shinta brushed past Kinosuke, fixing the first-year with a cold stare. "Move."

"Can't be making a ruckus in a hospital, can we? ... Sure can't."" Kinosuke turned as Momoshiro appeared from around the drinking fountain. At his elbow, Kaido made an odd hissing noise and glared stonily at Shinta.

"Thanks for coming anyway!" From the other side of the doorway, Kikumaru stood doubled with his hands clasped behind him, beaming up at them.

Inui stood imposingly behind him. "Certainly, it was very considerate of you to stop by."

Oishi stepped around Inui and came to stand next to the doorframe. His polite smile was arctic. "If you keep going up this hall, the elevators are on the left."

Shinta finally looked away from Echizen, casting his gaze around the half-circle of Seigaku Regulars.

"You think you can intimidate _us?_ After a match like that, you should all know full well to whom the title of 'strongest' belongs."

"Eh… Inui…" Kikumaru looked over his shoulder and pointed to his own nose. "Didn't _we_ win earlier?"

Inui nudged his glasses upward. "The data seems to support it."

"I'm not talking about victory or loss." Shinta took a step toward the door, sharp stare bearing down on Echizen. "I won't tell you again. Move."

Echizen looked away, pulling his hat down over his eyes. "Don'wanna."

Shinta's thin mouth curved up slightly. "Arrogant as ever, aren't you?"

His left hand came down hard on Echizen's shoulder. Oishi jumped forward and grabbed Shinta's wrist while Momo appeared from behind, both hands up to pull him away by his Hachiyama jersey.

Then abruptly, a voice crackled over the ceiling speakers.

"Security to Ward C, please. Security to Ward C, room twelve, please."

They stood frozen for several seconds, collecting stares from patients and orderlies in the hall.

Then in the silence, a loud voice said, "Guess you'd better scram."

Kinosuke whirled around. Shinta, letting go of Echizen's shoulder and pulling out of Oishi's grip, turned slowly. A few steps down the hall, the Hachiyama doubles pair stood side-by-side; Shun hunched over with his fists stuffed sulkily in his pockets, and Izumi with both clasped behind his neck, wild red hair glowing under the fluorescents.

"Izumi - " Kinosuke felt his eyes widen slightly. "You…?"

Izumi glanced up at the ceiling speaker, then back down at Shinta. "Yeah. Whoops."

Shun shrugged. "It was Izumi-senpai's idea."

Kinosuke felt the breeze as Shinta strode past him. Within three long strides, he was standing with his face inches from the red-headed Regular.

"Izumi…" His sharp voice was soft. "…do you want to make an enemy of me?"

Izumi took a half-step back, but he held the cold gaze evenly. "Nah, not really. Shun-chan an' me just didn't feel like being your scapegoats for this one." Without looking away, he added loudly, "What about you, Kinosuke-kun?"

He didn't wait for an answer. Shun, muttering under his breath, turned back down the hall and Izumi followed a step or two behind.

"Izumi-san."

He stopped and looked back over his shoulder at Oishi. Eiji stood next to him, smiling happily. Oishi gave him a firm nod. Izumi chewed one side of his lower lip, his red-amber gaze flitting up and down, then away altogether.

Turning, he followed Shun back down the hall and out of sight.

"Noda-san," Inui said into the silence. "Although we are on the third floor, it will likely take hospital security only another twenty-two point eight seconds to arrive at this room."

Kinosuke looked at Inui, around at the semi-circle of tennis players, and then at his captain. "They're right, Shinta. Let's just leave."

Shinta fixed him with a biting glare. "You're deciding things on your own now?"

"Shinta-buchou." Kinosuke shook his head. "We should go… before it becomes troublesome."

Turning the glare on each of the Seigaku Regulars in turn, Shinta's eyes came at last to settle on Echizen.

"Echizen-kun, you said yesterday that we know nothing about tennis. Now you stand in a hospital ward, surrounded by your damaged teammates, holding up their ragged 'victory'. What say you now?"

Echizen looked up at him blandly. Then he turned away, pulling his hat down over his smirk. "Mada mada da ne."

As Shinta's gaze reached sub-zero, Kinosuke came up quickly beside him. "Shinta-buchou."

They stood still for another second. Then abruptly, sending his blue-black hair flicking out behind him, Shinta whirled toward the elevators and strode away. Kinosuke followed close behind, eyes on the floor. A moment later, the two were swallowed up by the crowd of patients and staff.

"Ah… I do hope nothing _untoward_ befalls them…"

Everyone, except Echizen, gave a startled jump. Momo and Kaido said together, "Fuji-senpai?!"

Eiji added under his breath, "How long has he…?"

Fuji stood with one arm folded and one up, leaning lightly back against the opposite wall. He tapped the side of his face thoughtfully, his smile ominously veiled.

"There are many rumors surrounding the fates of uninvited visitors who use the elevators in this hospital..." He breathed a closed-mouth chuckle. "My my… such terribly gruesome stories…"

"_Fuji…!"_ Eiji wined in protest. "Too scary!"

Just then, two men dressed in police uniforms and wearing hospital tags appeared at the end of the adjoining hall. Inui walked down to meet them halfway and explain.

Oishi watched them talking for a moment, then faced across the hall. "Fuji, did you have your arm looked at?"

"Mm. Nothing to be concerned about."

Oishi sighed. "Thank goodness. One injured arm is enough."

"That's for sure." The door swung inwards and Taka took a step past Echizen into the hall.

This time Momo, Eiji, and Oishi said together, "Taka-san!"

"Eh-heh…" Taka's right arm hung against his chest in a blue fabric sling. With his left hand, he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Everyone, I'm really sorry for making you worry."

"No worries here!" Eiji stuck his index finger up and winked. "After all; can't be helped, right?"

"That's true," said Oishi. "In the end, that's just your tennis. Right, Taka-san?"

Taka winced. "Heh… sorry."

As Eiji and Momo began animatedly recapping singles three, Taka walked across the hall to Fuji.

"Is your arm alright? Why did you have to have it looked at?"

"It's really nothing."

"I'm sorry I missed the last match; sounds like the captain was pretty tough. I heard you even used a new set of counters! …Is that how you hurt your arm?"

"It doesn't matter." Fuji gave him a reassuring smile. "I won't be using those counters again."

"Oh, that's – good, I guess." Looking confused, Taka glanced down the hall. Suddenly, he waved his left hand brightly. "Hey there, Yuuta-kun! Are you coming to the victory party with us?"

Fuji turned around in time to see his brother walking over to them. "I guess. Free sushi, right?"

"Yuuta." Fuji smiled warmly at him. "I didn't know you were here."

"Wasn't. Nee-chan drove me." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "She said she'd give us a lift to Kawamurazushi so you don't have to walk."

Fuji's eyebrows went up in mild surprise. "… I can walk."

Yuuta shrugged uncomfortably. "I dunno. She just wants to."

"…How did she even know we were here?"

"Look, she's waiting in the car; if you don't wanna come, suit yourself." He turned rather abruptly and started back down the hall, waving one hand. "I'll meet you guys there."

Fuji watched him go, feeling a renewed smile coming over him. Just then, Taka's father walked around the corner from the reception desk, grinning.

"Takashi's all checked out. Seigaku, let's take this party to the restaurant!"

"Al_right_!" Momo stuck a victory-fist in the air as the group turned toward the elevators. "Hey, Echizen! Let's have an eating contest; ten _toronigiri_ in three minutes!"

"Fine, but Momo-senpai… won't you just lose again?"

"What?!"

Despite his assurance to Yuuta, Fuji was a little glad for the elevator ride. Exhaustion had taken over his whole body, making his limbs feel limp and heavy. Once the Regulars had stepped out into the hospital parking lot and Fuji was standing in sunlight again, he noted that his jersey was grimy with cement dust and the blood stains on his shirtfront were turning brown. Taken together, he was something of an unsightly wreck.

But as they crossed the parking lot and came onto a shaded sidewalk, Fuji suddenly felt the breeze again. It moved his hair up off his neck and sent loose wisteria petals dancing over the walkway. Ahead of him, Momo and Echizen were still arguing about the inevitable winner of their contest, and Eiji had turned to walk backwards, eagerly rehashing the details Fuji's match to Oishi and Taka.

The further ahead they walked, the more their lively voices blended together. Of all the perfect sounds in the world, Fuji felt that this one was among his favorites.

As he walked, he became aware of a lump in his shorts pocket. Reaching one hand in, he pulled out the tennis ball from the final game. He stared down at it for several moments. He would have to remember to return it to the club room next practice.

Slowly, he looked up. The Seigaku Regulars were now far in the lead down the tree-lined sidewalk.

Perhaps he wasn't so very exhausted after all.

Sliding the tennis ball back into his pocket, Fuji broke into a run to catch up.

* * *

_The End_

* * *

Glossary:

_Oniisan_ - polite term meaning something between 'big brother' and 'mister'.

_mada mada da ne_ - Echizen's catchphrase, lit; 'you still have a lot more to work on'. (Sorry, had to leave this in the Japanese. ^^; I doubt anyone needed a translation, thouh. ;) )

_toronigiri_ - Pressed sushi topped with fatty tuna.


End file.
